What's Past is Prologue
by Truth and Chaos
Summary: The ifs, the ands and the whys all lined up like a set of dominos. Before that I'd never really thought of those things, oh I knew them but they didn't really occur in the same string of thought processes. We lived within two hundred miles of each other as children and would have never known the other existed if our paths hadn't intersected by chance.*Formerly Some Nights*
1. The Present

**Author's note: This story was previously published as "Some Nights" and was removed earlier this year.**

**For those that have read it before removal:** You may notice lines and whole sections removed, not added. I've gone line by line today and edited this story until I felt better about it. Now it has been completed, and the ending is much better than the one I thought of last year. If you can't tell where I edited, then bless you for being good natured enough to overlook my grievous mistakes.

**For those that have not read it:** I hope you like this version. I prefer it.

Unlike most of my stories, this does not have a soundtrack. I don't think I could remember the old soundtrack if I tried. In all honesty, I wrote the new additional scenes completely at work without music.

I hope you like this dear readers. I know I like this version much better than my previous version.

* * *

I will admit to having one too many drinks that night when I went to bar with my work friends. I also admit thinking it was a good idea to walk home at three in the morning arm in arm with a guy that I knew had a girlfriend. Four years younger than me, he smelled like cologne, cigarette smoke, alcohol and his kisses tasted like the promise of incredibly good sex. The keys didn't seem to want to work with the lock to my apartment when his fingers were dancing along my ribcage, just under my breasts. Nor did my brain seem to want to function when he brushed my hair aside to land searing kisses and not so gentle nips along my neck and shoulder.

We didn't even make it to my bedroom. He had me balancing on the arm of the couch, one of my hands under his shirt stroking muscles that fluttered under the scrape of my nails. My other hand buried in his dark hair if only to keep his lips on mine that much longer. It gave me a nearly primal thrill when he moaned into my mouth. It felt even better when he dragged my hips to his so I could feel the hard lump of flesh that said yes, he wanted me, and he was ready whenever I was.

I remembered he had a girlfriend half way between his pants coming undone and my bra and tank top hitting the floor. His mouth closed over the juncture between my neck and shoulders, biting hard, sucking harder to leave a mark for everyone to see in the morning. I almost pulled him closer. I wanted to. My libido threatened to break my sanity apart if I didn't just give in. I really wanted to say screw it. Say that I did not care and did not give a damn about little miss twenty-one years old and away at college. She'd get over the break up and I would get to have the guy I'd been flirting with for the last two years.

The button and zipper on my jeans was undone. He had begun to lean in for another passionate kiss when I turned my head and pushed him away.

I think that I might remember the way he looked at me in that handful of minutes afterward forever. It's been two months, about three thousand miles and every time I close my eyes I can see him looking at me. First with lust hazed confusion. He tried to pull me back to him. I remember the feel of his fingers gripping my hips and the tugging force of his biceps. Most of all I remember wanting to give in. For all my bravado, I've got a submissive streak and the fact that he could make me move despite not wanting to made me shiver to my core. What made it worse was that I wanted to give in so badly.

From somewhere I managed to gather my wits, shove my libido's wants to the side and press on his shoulders until he got the message. I will never forget the way his eyebrows drew together, furrowing his forehead as the lust finally gave way to confusion. Hurt, plain and painful, made its way across his rugged features. He finally let go of me and took a step away, then another, and another until he stood against the wall watching me with dark hooded eyes.

I put in for a transfer the next day.

They had two job openings, one in Atlanta, Georgia or one in Portland, Oregon. Both were steps up in the company. Unfortunately the one in Atlanta took me too close to some members of my family that I did not like. Nor did they like me but that's beside the point. The point is that I took the job in Oregon. I'd never been that far west or that far north before. Call me sheltered. Or poor.

It took almost a month for the transfer to go through all the proper channels. That might have been the longest month of my life. I tried and used every trick in the book I knew to avoid talking to _him_ or about _him_. I'm not really sure how I managed to avoid even seeing him the whole month but I did. I pulled it off with almost flying colors.

The day before I left they threw me a goodbye party at work. Everyone that could show up did. Including the one person I really didn't want to see. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time I had to stand there hearing my boss talk about what an amazing employee I had been. How lucky the Portland office was for getting me. How everyone would miss me. I raised my glass when they toasted to me and my future success with sparkling cider in plastic champagne flutes from Target. I smiled while I received hugs and platonic kisses on the cheek. Multiple congratulations and empty threats to tie me to my desk to keep me from escaping distracted me from the next pair of arms to wrap around me.

Color me shocked. He hugged me tightly and much too long. The kiss he placed on my cheek came far too close to my lips. It was uncomfortably quiet around the two of us when he finally let me go. I think I had the grace to blush. Or maybe that was me turning beet red from the embarrassment. Either way I didn't like the way some of my work friends were looking at me afterward. None of them knew what happened between Josh and me that night. He had gone outside to smoke a cigarette a few minutes before I'd left.

Joshua saw me walk out of the bar alone and insisted that I call a cab. When I refused because I could walk home faster than a cab could get there, he'd insisted on walking home with me. The alcohol made reality a little fuzzy after that. I only know that at some point I'd confessed being a little bit in love with him and then he'd kissed me. He'd kissed me like a drowning man kissed the ground once back on solid land. His arms had wrapped around me, his fingers in my hair, bruising my waist where he gripped me…

Who could I have told? The gossip mill at work generated faster than the one in my family.

Believe me, that is saying something.

Of course I never saw the other shoe getting ready to drop.

I'd been in my new position in the Portland office a little less than a month when the axe came down. A hostile takeover that had been in the works for almost six months finally came to fruition. Pink slips littered every floor of the building. Everyone who held a position that was deemed unnecessary by the new company got a boot to the proverbial ass and a pitiful severance check to tide them over until they could get unemployment or another job. I kept my head enough to ask for a written reason for the loss of my job as well as a few dozen copies of a recommendation letter from my current boss. Who, incidentally, happened to be keeping his cushy desk job and salary.

That is how I ended up walking past a newly opened pub/micro-brewery with the pitiful contents of my desk under one arm. I'll admit to looking too much like I should have still been in an office. Black pencil skirt with grey stitching, black low heeled eyelet embroidered Mary Janes, and lavender blouse to offset my grey eyes. I'd taken my hair down from the French braid I'd had it in so it fell in messy waves around my face and half way down my back.

I actually stopped to do a double check on my makeup in the window of the pub. I had been close to tears as I cleaned out my desk and I would have hated walking around with smeared mascara without knowing it. The curtains were drawn in the window but the red and white HELP WANTED sign stood out like a beacon. The words 'inquire within' printed with neat blocky letters in black magic marker. The door to the pub stood open. I peeked in just to see how long the wait on the line would be.

To my surprise, no line. Hell, there weren't any people inside beside a tall, leggy blonde and an equally tall man with deep mocha coloring and a baritone to match. Warily I cast around for the horde of people that should have been trampling me for a job here. I expected that at any moment a stampede of the unemployed to elbow and shove me out of the way so they could take a shot at an interview with both or one of the people within. When I became absolutely certain that no one was coming or going for that matter, I stepped inside.

The two were undoubtedly a couple. They had to be. His arms were wrapped around her waist and hers were up under his shirt. I felt a little like a voyeur but hell, they had the sign in the window and unless I wanted to blow my meager saving to keep my apartment while I looked fruitlessly for a job in my field I need to get with the program. Or back on the horse. Whatever.

I cleared my throat and when that didn't seem to work; I knocked loudly on the wooden door frame and said, "I saw the help wanted sign in the window."

That worked.

The two detached themselves from one another. The blonde, pretty, blue eyes, milk and cream skin, pouty lips that were a little bruised from her earlier attention grinned like a mad fool at me. The guy started laughing a bit, embarrassed and blushing. He smiled a wide, toothy smile at me for all of ten seconds. Then he looked me up and down and the smile turned from adorably flustered to edged with concern and sympathy.

"Can I help you miss?" He asked. I couldn't place the accent.

I jerked the thumb of my free hand at the sign in the window, "I saw the sign. Are you looking for wait staff, bartenders, hostesses?" Granted I'd only been a waitress and occasionally a hostess throughout my teenage to college years but he didn't know that. I hoped and prayed to any higher power listening that they weren't looking for a head chef. I can cook and believe me I cook well but the handful of days I worked in the kitchens at the restaurants I'd been employed in I couldn't seem to fathom eating after getting home. The sight of food disgusted me.

He looked a little confused by my question. Maybe because of the way I was dressed. Business attired woman asking questions about a job that she, more than likely, would be overqualified for.

Here, here, but a job is a job and the tips I would earn in a place like this could cover my $595 rent and then some. I knew that from experience. How do you think I paid for college? I waited patiently for him to say something in low tones to the pretty blonde woman. She in turn gave him a look that clearly said 'to be continued' before heading off toward a pair of glass double doors near the bar.

When he finally turned his attention back to me I could see him calculating the best way to tell me that I'd be too expensive to employ. So I beat him to the punch.

"Look," I said dropping my box on one of the polished wood tables, careful not to knock any of the upturned chairs on it off. "I just got laid off. I need work. I'm new in town and frankly I cannot break my lease to go back to New York because it's way too fricken expensive. I've been a waitress, a hostess, short order cook and I've bussed tables. You don't have to train me, just set me up with a few menus and let me know which tables are mine. I'm good with the public and I'll work until I drop." Not to mention the pay cut I would be taking.

"I need a job sir," Christ that hurt. He had to be at least four or five years _younger_ than me. I'd never addressed someone younger than me in an interview let alone when basically begging for a job. "Believe me I have enough references that will tell you I am an excellent employee." And a little bit of a smartass. Short tempered. Intolerant of stupid people. I dug in my box for the copies of my resume that I managed to run off before one of the others tried to take off with the actual copier/fax machine. I held it out to him feeling a little ridiculous. I'm sure I looked a little ridiculous.

He looked uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. He still strode forward with his long legs and took my proffered resume out of my hands, grabbed a chair off the table and set it on the floor. Then he grabbed another and set it a couple feet back and asked me very politely to have a seat.

Gratefully I sat down. I didn't realize until he walked up to me exactly how tall he actually was. I felt like a dwarf. I'm five two on a good day and in these heels I'm barely hitting five four. Sitting didn't actually help my feelings of inadequacy all that much considering he had to turn his long legs out a bit to keep from hitting my feet with them.

He looked over my resume like someone who never actually interviewed an employee before. Meaning he actually started reading while I sat there wanting to fidget out of nervous habit. Keeping my hands neatly folded in my lap took an immense amount of self control. Interviews though, ugh. I've always hated interviews because you have to wait on the other person's reactions, thoughts or suggestions. I sat there a good three or four minutes while he read over the two pages of my resume.

Finally after what felt like an eternity he turned his attention from the paper in his hands to me, "You were working with Sullivan and Morgenstern before this?" That sounded a bit like curiosity mixed with doubt.

Why would he doubt that? I shrugged. "Apparently another company had begun to buy them out at the beginning of this year. Everyone who wasn't deemed necessary to the company's survival got the axe about an hour ago."

Both of his eyebrows went up, "that sucks."

"Like student loan payments in a recession."

He laughed a deep sound, his smile reached his eyes. "I hear that," he flipped my resume closed and rolled it up, met my gaze and asked me plainly, "What do you know about restaurants?"

I blinked at him, a little surprised. Honestly I'd expected a polite 'look I would love to hire you but the owner wants what the owner wants' speech. I said the only thing I could really think of at the moment, "I've worked in them since I was sixteen. I used to be an assistant manager at a local Denny's in college." Technically my title could have been considered unofficial but he didn't need to know that.

That made his smile grow even larger. "Good cause I don't know anything about running a bar or a brewery or a restaurant."

I couldn't help it; the words just tumbled out, "you're the owner?"

He gave me a grin that said he was and my tone of disbelief clearly amused him. He stroked his chin and goatee a little with long fingers, "too young?"

Embarrassment stained my skin a pinkish color, "little bit."

"What I lack in age I make up for in witty commentary."

My turn to smile. I could learn to like this guy. I held out my hand, "Faith Greyhem."

He took my hand and shook it firmly. Muscles. Lucky blondie. "Alec Hardison." After a beat, "it's probably a pay cut for you, but I need a general manager. See, my friends and I have a," he paused as if looking for the right words then said, "side business. It can take up a lot of my time. I figure that I am going to need someone to help out with the hiring and the menus and the office stuff." He opened my rolled up resume again just to give it another once over. His head bobbed in a thoughtful nod. "I think you're qualified."

And speechless.

He met my gaze, "When can you start?"

I swallowed past my disbelief, the sheer good luck and the giddy joy bubbling in my chest. I tried to keep my face calm but I felt my eyes crinkle in a dead giveaway of happiness and relief. "Is right now good?"

He leaned back in his chair, grinning from ear to ear.

* * *

Once upon a time a very, very long time ago I was married. His name was Andrew, Andy to almost everyone. Dark haired, dark eyed and warm skin. I loved looking at the difference between my paleness and his slightly darker self. He gave me a promise ring when we were too young to do anything with it and too naive to realize what it meant between us. We were married just after my eighteenth birthday. He went into the army and I went away to college. Life back then had been good, but then with Andy it always was. We'd been almost inseparable since childhood.

I buried my husband when I should have been wearing a cap and gown. I was 21. He was 23.

Somehow I managed to hold myself together until one of his squad mates handed me the folded flag. Then my world broke and I shattered into pieces.

As absent and secretive and distant as he had to be during those four years, I still couldn't imagine my life without him. There would be no more surprise visits. No more talk about planning for after college. No more talk of children in the future. None of it mattered now. None of it made a difference while they lowered his body into the ground.

He'd been a part of my world, a large part of my world since the day his mother put him in my pay pen. Andy told me he would love me forever when we were just children playing games in the backyard. He was the first boy I loved, the only one I'd loved. The idea, the very prospect of facing the rest of my life without his smile, his laugh, without his hand to hold…I lost my mind for a little while.

One of his squad mates took me home. He stayed with me and I let him. Later I found out he didn't have anywhere to go anyway.

Those first few days remain hazy in my mind. I remember being in bed a lot at first. Vaguely I can recall faces of friends and family who must have stopped in to see me. I don't know what they talked about, and I don't even know if I even spoke. I remember voices but not actually understanding what they said. Saying that I was a mess is an understatement of massive proportions. If I were to compare myself to a glass window it would be a fair assessment to say that even now, pieces of me are still missing.

I do remember someone making sure I ate at least once a day. The same someone harassing me to get out of bed and shower. I argued with him. Incoherently on occasion.

Under normal circumstances it should have been my family caring for me. My family might have taken care of me if I had anyone besides my grandparents. My mother died giving birth to me, my father died overseas around the time I turned six. My cousins, the ones in Georgia, weren't my favorite people. If we'd been on better terms sure, they might have been the ones watching out for me, but somehow it fell to him. A stranger I only knew when Andy brought him home because the man had nowhere else to go.

He shipped out for active duty and I forced myself to not be a mess. The next time he checked in on me I'd gotten better. The time after that I was almost whole. The time after that…I'm not going there. It bothers me too much.

I say all of this now because life, fate, destiny even has a strange way of coming back. Of catching up with you when you least expect it.

I don't know how long I stood outside double glass doors watching the handful of people inside with a mixture of curiosity, surprise and disbelief. Curiosity because these people seemed like such a motley crew of mismatched personalities, from an academic point of view they were interesting.

My boss, Alec, wore a dark blue Keep Calm and Don't Blink t-shirt with the TARDIS atop it in white. I knew that I liked him for a good reason.

Sitting on (not at) the table directly across from him was blondie. Who I'd been told was named Parker. No last name. Just Parker. She struck me as a little bit wild, but if Alec dug it, hey, it's their relationship. Her legs were folded neatly under her and once again, she wore entirely black. I wish I knew how she did that side braid. I've tried my hand at side braids all my life and failed _miserably_.

Closest to the door sat an older man, early to mid 50's. Irish skin and blue eyes. Wearing a dark brown jacket similar to the one I bought my grandfather last fall from J.C. Penny.

Next to him a dark haired, elegant woman with medium skin and fluttering hand movements. Thin frame, not as lanky as Parker happened to be but absolutely a figure any other woman would kill for. She wore a pair of designer shoes that must have cost upwards of three hundred dollars and a deep brown silk wrap dress cinched at the waist by a ribbon thin gold and rust colored belt that I think I saw in an ad for Gucci. Her outfit could probably have paid my rent for two or three months.

Jealous? Me? Pfft.

Next to her, furthest from the door…

That's where surprise and disbelief come in. Disbelief because I never planned on seeing Eliot after the fight we had. I'd hit him, shoved him, screamed at him and he took it all with a straight face and the red imprint of my hand on his cheek. I tried to hurt him as much as he hurt me. He walked out of my life and I never saw him again.

Until now.

He put on about ten pounds of solid muscle in the last few years, gained a couple of scars and his hair had grown longer. The leather jacket looked good on him, the work boots I remembered as a staple in his wardrobe still present even after all this time.

Besides, I would know that face anywhere. I'd kissed that mouth until we'd both needed to give in to breathing. I'd been devoured by those eyes too many times to count.

I swallowed and debated the merits of bolting right there and then. Say good bye to the job and run screaming like the chicken I am from Portland all the way back to New York. I almost would have too if the older man hadn't noticed me standing there like a stick in the mud.

He said something I couldn't hear and motioned me in.

My heartbeat leapt into my throat.

My brain told my legs to move but they felt rooted there on the hardwood floor of the bar. I could barely think let alone breathe. When Alec took only a handful of steps to reach the door with those incredibly long legs of his, I still couldn't seem to fathom up words. Ideas. Thoughts beyond 'oh sweet holy mother Mary, this is going to _suck_.'

When my wits came back to me, and Alec reached me I shoved the short stack applications with attached resumes into his hands and talked about those. "Those are the people I've interviewed today. The top three are the best choices in my opinion. There are a few potential bartenders in there, but no one _I'd_ trust outright to make a drink." One of them had a mullet and wore a plaid shirt over a stained wife-beater. Excuse me for having something called **standards**.

The muscles in my hand cramped a little from how tightly I gripped my jacket. "I'm going to head out. Did you want me to write down my hours until you get the time clock working?"

He looked a little confused for a moment then a grin broke out on his face. "My bad, I forgot to tell you that you're salary."

Despite the inner turmoil I felt a smile creeping up the sides of my mouth. Salary? Every job I've ever held required me to fill out a time card of some kind. Not including my last job that is.

As I began to excuse myself Parker came to the door, this look in her dark blue eyes that I really couldn't quite read. "Did you have a chance to meet everyone?"

I blinked at her. Everyone? A sinking feeling started in the pit of my stomach. "No, but I really have to-" Please don't let her mean everyone in that room. Dear god, I know we hadn't talked much but, please, please don't let her mean the other people in that room.

She did though. She did mean them. Parker, deceptively strong despite her long, lanky appearance, maneuvered me into the room.

Suddenly I wished that I did run back to New York or even Missouri to my grandparents. I did not want to look up and see him staring back at me but what choice did I really have? I felt eyes on me, not just his.

The older man with the slightly unkempt hair; Nathan Ford. He directed a polite smile at me, but it didn't entirely reach his eyes. His accent had overtones of the north east, but nothing solid. It felt almost like he was examining me.

The very well dressed woman; Sophie Devereaux. English accent that sounded slightly off, like she might have grown up somewhere besides England.

And, last but not least…

I found my voice before Parker and Alec could manage the very last introduction.

"Hi Eliot," it sounded like a whisper in the room but suddenly the silence was deafening in its intensity. A pin could have dropped and it would have sounded like a boulder hitting the hard wood.

If he was at all shocked to see me he hid it far too well. Blue eye that often reminded me of clear summer days trained on me. I felt my skin burning with a blush of embarrassment. Maybe he didn't remember me as well as I remembered him? I didn't know if it would have been possible. Even before Andy died Eliot had been to my grandparent's ranch. For two years I'd seen the man come in with Andy and leave with Andy like they were brothers. In essence they were I suppose. Brothers in combat and the like.

I seriously doubted he wouldn't know my face.

His voice was exactly what I remembered, a little rough, a little southern, "Faith."

"How's your sister?" I asked. The silence and the shared glances were beginning to bother me.

His mouth formed a tight, flat line. "She's good."

I nodded numbly, "And your nephew? He's what, almost a teenager now?"

The flat line of his lips quirked at the corners, "Just turned thirteen."

I kept nodding until I felt like my head might fall off. I probably looked like an idiot. I felt like one. I pivoted on the balls of my feet, my sneakers squeaking against the wood. I looked up at Alec who looked as surprised as I had felt earlier. "So um, I'm supposed to be off tomorrow and Sunday. I'll pick up interviewing people on Monday." I inclined my head at Mr. Ford and Mrs. Devereaux, "it was nice meeting you." I dared a glance at Eliot.

Then I walked out of the room as fast as I could without running.

The minute my feet hit the pavement outside I let my hands shake like they'd wanted to since I walked into that room. The tears threatened to burn their way out of my eyes and I felt like falling apart again would be a fantastic idea. Instead I made my feet move in the direction of my apartment.

I did not look back.


	2. The Past

The heavy foot fall of men's boots and the solemn sound to their voices told me to stop before I made it a few feet out of the bedroom. Andy's birthday present, neatly wrapped and just a little heavy sat between my hands. I meant to bring it down stairs. To set it on the table near the cake. The cake which I still had to bring up from the fridge in the basement. He'd been home about two days this time and he'd be gone in another three but at least he came home for this birthday. Last year I hadn't even known where he was to call him.

"I mean it Eliot," Andy's voice floated up to me from my grandparent's living room.

I stood just behind where the wall ended and gave way to the hard wood railing near the stair case. They couldn't see me. I felt guilty for eavesdropping but something in the way my husband spoke to his friend/compatriot told me to stay where I was. The same something told me that I _needed_ to hear this conversation. I tried to soften the sound of my breathing, barely daring to move at all lest I tip them off.

"Andy," I could hear the reservation plain as day in Eliot's tone. "I'm ain't the right guy to be askin' this."

I heard a snort and short, almost bitter laugh. "Who else do I ask? You want me to ask Carlton? Or Dryer? He's got a woman in every state." Even without seeing it I knew Andy was shaking his head in the way he did when he saw no other options to a solution. I could visualize his frown, the corners of his full mouth turned down and the slight tilt of his dark head. Before the buzz cut hair would have fallen over his eyes giving him this endearing, almost bad boy look. Back in those days he could pout at me and I'd fold like a bad hand.

These days he didn't pout much. Not since joining Special Forces.

Andy didn't even smile much these days unless he was with me.

I didn't want him to re-up when his term finished at the end of the year but he told me he had to. Not wanted to. Had to. As if he had no choice in the matter. We fought about it the night he came home. I made him sleep on the couch downstairs. I didn't like thinking that he went places we couldn't talk about. I didn't want him coming home with fresh scars and old bruises anymore. I wanted him to smile again. Scared didn't even begin to cover the bill for the turmoil that bubbled in my chest every time we talked about his chosen profession.

He only planned on staying in the service until he managed to get college tuition covered.

The heavy sigh that came from Eliot sounded a bit like resignation with equal parts frustration and exasperation, "Carlton's a son of a bitch. Helluva sniper, but a son of a bitch. I wouldn't trust Dryer any further than I could throw him."

"So are you gonna do what I asked or are you gonna make me talk to one of them?" Andy pressed almost desperately.

"What the hell brought this on man?" Eliot sounded annoyed, borderline pissed off. I remembered what Andy told me about him. The man was built like a boxer and fought like he had violence trying to get out.

The quiet in the rest of the house allowed me to make out the sound of cloth shifting just a little. Andy had either shrugged or he'd taken a swallow of his beer. "You didn't see her face when I told her I was going to re-up." He sounded hurt. Worried and hurt. "If anything happens to me Faith…" his voice trailed off.

My chest ached painfully.

"I didn't know," Andy said and his words were strained, "I didn't know that I couldn't do this and have her too."

At that moment I knew I shouldn't have been hearing their conversation. I couldn't move though. My limbs were frozen with a cross between self loathing and the overwhelming need to cry. Tears burned my eyes. I swallowed past a lump in my throat that felt like I'd sucked down a softball.

I heard a deep breath and a low intelligible mutter come from Eliot.

"I love her," Andy said and it sounded like he was pleading. Andy didn't beg. He had too much pride but Christ in heaven that sounded as close to it as I'd ever heard him get. "Eliot, I know okay? _I know_. But I love Faith. I've been in love with her since we were kids. I married her because I refused to live without her and yeah, it was stupid and it was selfish. I know it's all fucked up now. I know that but fuck anyone and you if you think you can talk me out of wanting to make sure someone watches out for her."

The small bumps on the wall pressed back against my skin as I leaned back against it. My knees threatened to give and my hands shook to the point I tightened my grip on Andy's present. My fingernails went white and bloodless. The tears slid scalding hot from my eyes to my flushed cheeks. They dripped from my chin to make dark stains on the blue-grey cotton dress I wore because Andy made a comment about wanting to take off me later. My teeth bit so hard into my lower lip to keep me silent.

It seemed like it took an eternity for Eliot to answer. "I'll keep an eye on her."

My lungs burned for breath but I didn't move, didn't dare breathe too heavily or too much until I heard their voices and their footsteps head outside again. Once the screen door closed I dropped to my ass on the wood floor and let myself cry. I never meant to hurt Andy and I never meant for him to feel like that. Oh I'd tried to make him feel guilty for being away from me but I didn't think that something like this would happen. I didn't realize how I made him feel.

I never felt as young, naïve or stupid as I felt at that moment. I went over our fight the night he came home and when I thought about it again I realized how selfish I'd been. Young, stupid, naïve and above all, selfish. The word bitch came to mind.

After beating the living hell out of myself mentally I went into the bathroom and washed my face. Re-applied the little make-up I wore. Eye drops for the redness from crying. Andy's presents were stacked neatly in a little pile on the dining room table by the time everyone came into the house again. I brought his cake up from the basement and put the finishing touches on it just as my grandmother began her off-key, slightly accented rendition of 'happy birthday to you' while our friends and few family members joined in. My grandfather and I carried in a checkerboard cake with twenty three candles and chocolate whipped cream frosting into the dining room.

I gave my husband as happy a birthday as I could give him, including two rounds of birthday sex. We were lying post coital bliss, the sheets rumpled around us and his fingers interlocked with mine. I listened to his heartbeat, my body nestled against his, my head resting where his chest and shoulder met. I belonged here with him. I knew that as sure as I knew that tomorrow the sun would rise and that in three more days he would be going back to wherever he was stationed now.

He couldn't tell me where. He couldn't tell me why. I didn't ask anymore.

His conversation with Eliot came back to me as Andy did what he always did. He kissed my forehead and wrapped his arms around me. I felt precious and loved with him. I always had. I thought that I always would. I kissed his dimpled cheek while my fingers trailed over his chest and slowly downward to his wakening member.

He laughed a deep laugh, "Woman, again? I'm not made of condoms you know." His hand reached for the nightstand anyway.

I pulled his arm back, putting his hand on my hip. "Forget it."

His forehead creased adorably in confusion, "What?"

I shrugged and kissed him harder than I could ever remember kissing him before. I felt him go from half mast to full mast as I pressed my body against his. A low, deep rumble emitted from his throat that sent things in my lower bits into a flurry of fluttering excitement and tightening anticipation. The sheets twisted around us started to be more of an irritating hindrance at that point.

Andy rolled us over, elbows on either side of my head, dark eyes searching mine, "What about finishing school? What about getting a job and being established first?"

I rolled my eyes heavenward as if exasperated with him, "If you don't want to we could just go to sleep…" Pretended to try to slide out from underneath him.

He laughed but the heat in his eyes said other things. Things that spoke to parts of me that were a little sore from the last two rounds. "Faith," his mouth pressed to mine and I kissed him back with the same passion.

My fingernails trailed down his back while he busied himself biting the joint between my neck and shoulder. "School," I moaned a wanton sound I hoped no one outside the room heard, "It's my last semester." I scratched him hard when he found a spot that my spine bow and arch off the bed. His arm wrapped around me, holding me against the hard muscle of his chest. I loved that my soft bits meshed with his muscled bits so well.

"And finding a job?" Andy murmured against the skin of my stomach.

He expected me to think while he did that? I grabbed what I could of his hair and yanked him back up my body. I held his face while he looked down at me, watching me with those dark eyes that I loved so much. I smiled up at him. "I think I'd rather start a family with you than work for some jerk that's going to take me for granted and treat me like crap."

He laughed then, a deep real laugh. The kind I hadn't heard from him in almost two years. He kissed me until we both needed to come up for air. "Baby," he whispered his lips millimeters from mine as he spoke. "You must be the woman of my dreams."

I pressed my lips against his. "No. Just the love of your life."

He rolled his hips a little proving to me that he was willing to love me in all sorts of ways right now. I giggled a girlish giggle and sighed a happy sigh. I decided that day that I would give Andy all I could because I loved him. I wouldn't be a selfish brat. I would be happy to be with him because giving him something to come home to made me believe that he would come home.

I wish that was all it took.

* * *

Staring at lines can make you a little crazy. It messes with your vision. I think I stood at the sink in the bathroom trying to will two pink lines into existence for hours. One pink line stared back at me as it had for the past three weeks straight. Like it had since we started trying. On one hand I knew logically that the odds of me being pregnant after Andy's death were slim. I only saw him one more time a few days before he died. On the other I couldn't stop wanting to have just a small piece of him. Hope and a touch of fear, irrational as those emotions can be, had me double and triple checking when my period didn't show.

Logic told me that the stress of my husband's funeral, forcing myself to move away from Missouri and starting a new job made my body go wonky.

I could say that I don't know why I moved like other people would because they wouldn't be exactly sure how to make it seem like they weren't just chickening out. Me, I'll admit it. Everything became overwhelming when I came back to reality. My four day withdrawal from the world meant nothing without someone to be my buffer so I left. Everything I'd known for the first twenty one years of my life stayed in Missouri and I took the first job I could get elsewhere.

Running away seemed like a good idea. Starting over sounded even better.

The cold of the bathroom tiles began to slip past the barrier of my socks and into the soles of my feet while I stood there waiting for two pink lines. I kept thinking about the days and the months in between seeing Andy and my period and the more I thought about it the less the numbers added up. Math and I are not the best of friends but I can do the basics in my head and no matter what exceptions and allowances I made nothing worked. I dropped the pregnancy test into the waste basket, mentally kicking myself for not using my brain to begin with.

Feeling like an idiot usually goes away with ice cream, chocolate and fried food. None of which I had in my refrigerator. All of which the small market down the street had aplenty. I found my old and well worn converse, dark blue and somewhat tomboyish. Grabbed my keys, a light jacket and headed out. The darkened, heavy sky overhead held the promise of rain soon. I made my feet move a little faster when the dull roar of thunder sounded over the honk of cars.

Mid-morning on Saturday and the streets here were busy. I tried to keep up with the timed weave through pedestrian traffic on the way to the market. I still felt like a tourist even though I tried to make a point of not looking up anymore. My new coworkers assured me that I'd get used to everything soon, but I didn't think I would.

The savory smells of Chinese food and pizza hit me right before I went into the shop. My stomach rumbled even though I'd eaten breakfast a couple of hours ago. I love the food here in New York. One redeeming quality of a town that I couldn't quite get the hang of yet. The Indian couple that ran the market hailed me by name. They both though it terribly funny that I ate a lot more fruits and veggies than their regular customers. If only they knew how much I actually loved carbohydrates and junk food.

I grabbed a basket and found the frozen foods.

My grandfather, a Korean War veteran and a former boxer, taught me to always be aware of my surroundings while growing up. That is why I noticed the man standing at the end of the isle. He stood just within my peripheral vision, at least six foot one, dark clothes, and dark hair. In all honesty he wasn't doing anything but looking at the bread at that end of the isle but something about him made the skin between my shoulder blades tight and itchy.

I stopped debating the merits of Neapolitan ice cream with its triple flavors of temptation versus Turkey Hill's Tin Roof Sundae. In the end it didn't matter. I'd still be sitting on my couch eating junk food and watching old Stargate episodes. A small bottle of Coke followed by a large bag of potato chips made it into my basket when I heard footsteps approaching.

Tall, dark and a little unnerving, stopped a handful of feet from my when I turned to see who was there. It bothered me to think he might have come closer if I hadn't thought to look. The hairs on the back of my neck felt prickly.

He gave me a friendly smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Sorry to startle you," he said in an oh-so-polite tone without sounding like he meant to apologize at all.

I didn't return his smile. "You didn't startle me." My feet wanted to give ground and step back but the tight itch between my shoulders and the prickling sensation on my skin said stay put.

His jaw clenched and his right hand, more than likely his dominant hand, flexed and tightened. Either he didn't like that he hadn't scared me or he didn't like that I wasn't showing fear. Almost instantly those indicators were gone, replaced by a nice guy smile that looked too practiced to me. "I was just wondering, since you seem like you know what kind of stuff they have here, could you help me find something for this party I have to go to later?"

"I don't work here. I'm sure if you ask one of the owners they can help you." I was already lamenting the fact that I'd more than likely have to find a new place to grocery shop because of this guy. Even if he didn't turn out to be a creeper he still gave off the creeper vibe and I wouldn't want to be anywhere that I could possibly run into him.

The front door to the store jingled as someone else entered the store. Tall, dark and creepy looked away from me for just a second. I took that as my cue to move to another isle, trying to keep my steps normal. After grabbing a bunch of things I didn't need; ice tea mix, cat food for the strays that lived in the alley next to my building, and dried apricots because they made excellent snack food, I dared to venture to the register.

I didn't see tall dark and creepy. I didn't see him while I made small talk with the owner's wife. Nor did I see him while she rang me up and bagged my groceries. I thought I might be home free when he got in line behind me. There were no snack foods or party treats in his basket.

My hand was just coming back from taking my change when he spoke.

"I'm sorry if I scared you off back there," again his voice held no apology. This time he went for the shy, quiet almost bashful tone that would have had anyone else rethinking his actions. The human mind will make excuses for another person's actions if only to keep from offending. That simple trait bred into us from day one can get you hurt or worse if you aren't careful. "I'm not used to doing this. I don't meet normally meet beautiful women on the street."

Christ he was barking up the wrong tree. I'm not beautiful. On a good day I'm five two. My hair decided to go for a frizzy wave so I put it up in a loose bun at the base of my neck and I'd gone without make up save the cherry chap-stick and Olay moisturizer I slathered on earlier. I'm average, nondescript, and unremarkable in every way save my eyes but they were hiding behind sunglasses. Flattery usually annoys me if only because I know anyone paying me compliments wants something.

In front of me the owner's wife gave me an 'I'm so happy for you' look. That smile on her face said I'd get no support from her for turning this guy down.

When I turned around, groceries in hand I tried to keep my face as neutral as I could considering this guy looked capable of squashing me like a bug. I opened my mouth to reject him as nicely as possible and stopped when I saw the man off to the side. My brain and my eyes and the synapses between got their signals crossed for a moment. His hair looked a little longer, his skin a little more tan which made his blue eyes seem surreal. His eyes weren't on me though, they were on tall, dark and creepy who was still watching me.

"Eliot," I stepped over to him, hugged him and despite the fact that physically this was the closest I'd ever been to him, he hugged me too. "Long time no see." I gave him a smile that was mixed relief and a 'please, let's get out of here' plea.

His gaze didn't leave the tall, dark figure until we were out of the market.

He walked back to my apartment with me in companionable silence. I got the feeling he wanted to say something but whatever it was stayed locked behind his lips. We were in the elevator on the way up to the sixth floor when I said, "So…you were in the neighborhood?"

"Somethin' like that," his reply was gruff, the remnants of an emotion I couldn't place coloring his voice. He didn't turn to look at me, just kept his eyes on the metal doors in front of us. "You're gonna need to find somewhere else to shop."

I sighed, "Figured that." The elevator dinged and the door opened to my floor.

"I'll get you pepper spray."

Somehow, Eliot telling me that made me feel a lot better. We made it into my apartment without incident. He, like the soldier he was, did a perimeter check of my flat. Once he seemed satisfied that my windows were all properly locked, the chain and deadbolt secure and there wasn't anyone lurking on the fire escape or in the closets he came back into the kitchenette. I left his bowl of ice cream waiting for him on the island that served as my dining table. One of his eyebrows cocked upward as if to ask whether I seriously expected him to eat that.

I mock saluted him with my spoon, "You probably just saved me from at worst a potential stalker and at best a very, very awkward rejection conversation. Think of it as a thank you."

I felt him watching me while I ate and after a moment or two he sat down across from me. He didn't touch his two scoops of chocolate, vanilla and fudge until after everything began to look mushy and soupy. Then he grabbed his bowl, and my empty one, to wash them in the kitchen sink.

"You look better," he said over the soft swish of water and the dish sponge.

For some reason, that is what set me off. One moment I watched his broad back as he cleaned the dishes and the next my vision swam with tears. A glass of Coke appeared in front of me, complete with two ice cubes and a straw. I glared at him while I swiped at my cheeks. "I'm not in shock."

Eliot rolled his shoulders, "Humor me. You'll feel better."

Embarrassment heated my face, staining my cheeks red with blood. "Is this what you consider keeping an eye on me?"

If it bothered him I couldn't tell. The man had a stone cold poker face. He planted one hand on the counter and inched the glass forward. "Drink it."

Instead I pushed the Coke to the side. "What are you doing here? Not that I'm not grateful for your impeccable timing but…" I scowled at him, "Shouldn't you be, I don't know, off on the other side of the world because Uncle Sam wants you there?"

Patiently he picked up the glass and set it in front of me again. The remains of the ice cubes clinked against one another pitifully. "Drink it and I'll tell you Faith."

Maybe it was because he used my name or maybe because honestly I was thirsty after eating all of that ice cream. I drank the slightly watery Coke and yeah, I did feel a little better. "You do realize that I moved _because _everyone kept trying to make sure I was okay, right?"

He took the empty glass from me and washed that too. Jesus his mama taught him well. The man not only held open the door for women, he did the dishes! I felt a little twinge of guilt for being such a petulant beotch.

"I didn't re-enlist."

I stared blankly at him waiting for an explanation. The silence seemed overwhelming but he offered nothing further. When I became certain he wouldn't talk without a bit of prompting, I made motions for him to continue. He silently leaned back against the counter across from me and said nothing. Nada. Andy told me a few times that he thought Eliot was a lifer. As in, in the army for life. The very idea that he wasn't part of the armed forces anymore seemed almost impossible. Minutes passed. He still didn't explain.

"Christ Eliot, you can't just drop that bomb on me and not say why!"

His eyes dropped from my face to my neck before returning, he nodded at me, "That the promise ring he gave you?"

I touched the small silver claddagh ring with our, Andy's and mine, mutual birthstone set into the heart. I wore it under my shirt with my wedding ring. People tended not to ask about either because they never saw them. Gingerly I pulled out the thin silver chain they hung on so he could see them better. Touching them made my heart ache. I dropped them back under my shirt.

"The girl I gave a promise ring to got married last year." Thumbs hooked in his belt loops, head bowed just a little. No ring on his ring finger. Anyone else might have looked more upset. Eliot? His poker face didn't crack but a brief sort of regretful sadness entered his eyes.

I shook my head because that sucked. A lot. "I'm sorry Eliot."

He shrugged, "I wasn't there."

"Where were you?"

He didn't answer. He just gave me that poker face again.

I sighed at him. "Okay. Probably job related. I won't ask." I hopped out of my seat, "the couch folds out into a bed. Sheets in the hall closet. Extra pillows in there too. If you're staying you're cooking dinner."

That made the corner of his mouth turn up, "What makes you think I can cook?"

"Your mama taught you to do the dishes when they're dirty. You can cook. Might not be able to cook well but you're southern. How bad can you be?"

I watched him try to fight a laugh, "Yes ma'am."

After that I wasn't exactly sure what to say to him. All together we might have held ten, maybe twelve conversations total. As it stood I actually knew very little about Eliot. I wasn't really sure about his last name either. That's why I always called him by his given name. Mentally I accounted for the things I did know about him.

I knew he had a sister who married a jerk that Eliot wanted to beat the crap out of. His sister and the jerk had a son who was five or six years old. Eliot had a soft spot for his nephew. He liked kids. He grew up in Kentucky around horses and he could ride them fair enough. He talked a lot with my grandfather and grandmother about their ranch and all of the animals. The dogs loved him and he loved them in return.

Aside from that, no I didn't know him. So why would I offer him my pull out couch?

Because he had Andy's back right up until the end.

That was enough for me.

There were a lot of things I learned about Eliot during the week he stayed at my apartment. The first and foremost, Eliot wasn't just a good southern boy trying to do right by what his mama taught him. Oh no, he was a bred in the bone southern gentleman, a little bit humble and somewhat of a good ol' boy in the better sense of the term. At first I thought Eliot just didn't talk a lot, the truth turned out to be that until you got him on a subject he liked, the man just liked to people watch. He had this deep laugh that went along with his scratchy voice that sounded like a rumble of thunder coming from his chest. He spoke four different languages and was trying to learn a fifth. And, while the man didn't have any remarkable skills in the cooking dinner department he was fantastic at making breakfast foods.

There were a couple of things I learned about myself too. Like, until Eliot became my unofficial roommate I hadn't realized how lonely I actually was in my little apartment. Or that my skipping breakfast every morning might have been making it harder for me to learn the subway system. He kept saying skipping meals caused concentration problems. When I walked through the door forty-five minutes after leaving work on Monday instead of almost two hours later I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

On the Saturday after him appearing out of nowhere we were sitting at the kitchen island eating pancakes and talking about the merits of me learning self defense when he spilled the beans.

"I'm leaving today," he sounded almost apologetic.

I pushed my fork through thin, sweet maple syrup. Hunger evaporated with half my stack of vanilla and chocolate breakfast still left on my plate. My mouth went a little dry. I reached for my milk, the milk he'd gone out to get last night when he realized that he'd have nothing to cook with in the morning. After I gulped down a couple of mouthfuls, "so where are you going?"

He shook his head, "Better if I don't tell you."

"You're not in the army anymore; you can tell me this stuff now."

The right corner of his mouth curved upward, "I _could_, but it's better if I _don't_."

I rolled my eyes, "Uh huh. Next you'll be telling me to trust you because you're older."

Eliot laughed that deep rumbling laugh, "I am older than you darlin'."

I made pfft sound at him and circled my fork in the air, "Seven years. Yeah. Big difference."

He pointed at my soggy pancakes, "You done?"

I pushed the plate toward him. He dumped my leftovers into the garbage can and set on doing the dishes again. I glowered at his broad back. "You spoiled me, you know that right? It's going to be a pain in the ass to have to start cooking myself breakfast from now on."

"Go to bed ten minutes earlier and get up ten minutes earlier," he replied so matter-o-factly I almost wanted to smack him. Not that I could take him in a fight, but still.

I cast a glance over to the couch. His single duffle bag, which appeared pretty much out of nowhere, last Saturday evening sat innocently on what I'd deemed his side of the couch. All packed and ready to go. I felt a pang of sadness, mostly because I'd miss him. Even though I'm fairly introverted I'm not one for being alone all the time. Eliot, like me, tended to read during quiet times. He didn't like my small library of books because they tended to lean toward science fiction and romance but he liked the news and he read my small stack of Rolling Stones magazines.

"I'm goin' to Port Authority in a couple of hours," he used a dish towel to dry his hands, eyes down instead of looking at me.

Apparently he'd gone and bought his ticket without even telling me. Nice. I wanted to scowl at him. Glare and be annoyed. Cross my arms over my chest and call him a douche for not telling me in advance. I'm not good with surprises and I'm worse with goodbyes. I bit back a sigh, but I'd regret it if I didn't at least go with him to say goodbye.

We'd gotten to be pretty good friends over the last week.

I looked down at my night clothes, the stripped blue and green socks, grey yoga pants, an old and well loved Decepticons t-shirt. Typically I didn't wear a bra this early in the morning but Eliot did not need to be graced with the size and weight of my girls braless so I started putting one on before I left the bedroom every morning. It seemed easier than accosting his eyes or making him feel uncomfortable.

"I better get changed if I'm going to go with you."

Turns out that in Eliot time a couple of hours actually worked out to about one hour and ten minutes. My hair wasn't even dry while we rode the subway into Manhattan. Despite the cooler weather above ground the subways were still stifling. I felt my hair frizzing even though I braided it and pinned it up. Silently I glared up at Eliot whose hair stayed perfectly straight despite the humidity.

Lucky bastard.

"So," I said as we waited on the will call line at the Grey Hound terminal upstairs, "you didn't tell me how you found me."

He didn't bat an eyelash, "You didn't change your name."

I felt my eyebrows go up of their own accord, "so you just Googled Faith Saint Cloud and figured one of the top three hits would be me?" When he didn't answer, "Come on Eliot, how'd you find me?"

"Your grandparents are good people."

"Naïve people," I said, "but yes, they are good."

He rolled one shoulder in a half shrug, "Your grandmother is worried that you don't call often enough. I agreed to check in on you and they gave me your address."

"And stalker follow me from my place to the market."

He shot me a dark look, "Should I have left you alone to fend off whatever his name was?"

The woman behind the counter called out for the next person before I could answer. Eliot stepped up, got his ticket and I hung out just to the side. He was right. I would rather not have had to deal with tall, dark and creepy even if he did turn out to be harmless. I hooked my thumbs in my pockets and watched him flirt effortlessly with the customer service rep. Wow. When he finally turned away, pocketing what looked like an extra slip of paper I gave him the raised eyebrows again.

Eliot gave me a devilish grin.

"You're getting her hopes up that you'll call," I warned as we walked through the small throng of people.

We headed down a couple of flights of stairs to an underground area with obnoxious orange tiles and wall paint that was probably supposed to represent the urban jungle that NYC is supposed to be. A line had already begun to form for Eliot's bus. I looked at the black and white list of stops for his trip. He still hadn't told me where he would be headed. He probably wouldn't.

I looked at him past the fall of my bangs.

It probably was better if I didn't know.

That didn't stop me from reading the list of places. Nothing in particular stood out. Names of places I'd heard of but never bothered going to. Some places I'd thought of getting to before I died if only for the historical aspects. I hear Baltimore city is full of brightly colored metallic fish standing tall and proud. I know Philadelphia is the birth place of liberty. I vaguely remember bugs bunny accidentally stopping over in a couple of these places.

I wondered how long he'd be gone.

I wondered if he would come back.

I didn't want to ask, just thinking about asking made me feel…well…clingy. Not a familiar feeling. Not pleasant either. I just, I don't know. I guess I didn't want to be alone again. Facing the fact that in about five to ten minutes Eliot would be gone and I'd be friendless in New York again was not fun. I busied myself playing with my cell phone, imagining that if I just separated myself from his presence mentally before it happened physically I might not be as upset by it.

The sound of the metal door separating the hallway from the bus terminal parking still shook me. I'll give myself credit for not jumping in surprise but not for much else. I waited with Eliot until he was two people from the door. Then I wanted to go. My feet were itching to head out of that place. The horrible orange tiles made me feel claustrophobic.

"I'm going to go," I told him in low tones.

He looked at me with hooded blue eyes. Completely unreadable, "You gonna be okay?"

No. I tried to force a smile but it didn't work. "Yeah."

He flicked hair away from his face in a motion I'd seen him make more and more often this week, "You need to learn to lie better."

My throat tightened, my chest constricting painfully. My eyes burned a little, "My only friend is leaving. What do you want me to say?"

Eliot shook his head slowly, almost sadly, "I'm not the kind of guy you should count as your friend Faye."

I rolled my shoulders, "Too late to tell me that." I jammed my phone into my front pocket harder than I needed to. I would bruise there later. It didn't matter. I gave Eliot as bright a smile as I could manage at the moment, which is to say it was more of a grimace pulled tightly over my teeth. I thought about hugging him goodbye. Then I dismissed the idea. I hadn't hugged him since last Saturday. I couldn't be sure he'd hug me back in any case. Last Saturday might have been a show to put off tall, dark and creepy.

He was next to last now. We stepped up together. The line shuffled in behind us.

"Start taking self defense classes," he told me evenly.

"Already started looking up places that teach Tae Kwon Do," I assured him.

"There's pepper spray in the top right drawer in the kitchen."

I wondered silently when and how he got it. Then I figured it didn't matter.

The guy in front of Eliot passed through the doorway to the parked bus. Eliot stepped up and handed the bus driver his ticket. The bus driver reviewed it for a moment.

I gave Eliot what I hoped would be a significant look, "Be careful." I wanted to say more but I couldn't. He nodded at me, gaze steady. Then he went through the doorway toward the bus.

I left the terminal with my shoulders hunched and my music blasting so loud in my ears that I could barely fathom thought. I made it all the way back to my apartment before I realized it. Insignificant in the detail but enormous when it came down to the little bits of string holding my fragile sanity together at that moment.

Mentally I went over the morning. Every word. Every action. No. Now that I thought actually thought about it, the words hadn't come out. They'd gone unspoken and unimplied. The realization brought a little smile to my face. I wound my head phones around my mp3 player and fished around in the drawer he'd spoken of for the pepper spray.

I felt better now that I knew he'd planned on coming back. How did I know he meant to? Very simply.

Neither of us actually said goodbye.

* * *

Four months. That's how long he was gone. Four months, three days.

I could say that with the promotion I received a month after he left and the friends I started making at work and in my Judo class I didn't have the time to notice how empty my apartment seemed. That would be a lie of course, but still, I could say it. I don't know why but the friends I did make didn't seem like much more than a few good acquaintances. I have never been very good at making and keeping friends in my life.

Andy being the best looking guy in my high school made it hard to have girlfriends. Girls either hated me because I was with him or they befriended me to see if they could steal him away. The two girls I managed to stay friends with through all four years of high school long ago decided to give up their dreams of college and moving away for families and a white picket fence. We grew apart.

I had a few people I kept in touch with via Facebook from college. They were all off being young and living life. Kathy Bates said it best while I watched Fried Green Tomatoes one night. I felt too old to be young and too young to be old.

After Eliot left I started calling my grandparents more often instead of my monthly check in. I promised to visit them when I started getting vacation and personal time. They asked me about the nice boy (being a year from thirty I didn't really count Eliot as a boy anymore, but apparently my grandparents [being in their seventies] still did) that had gone to see me. He'd called them from my apartment to let them know how I was. I didn't know if that made me want to smack him or thank him.

I received no phone calls from Eliot. No letters either. I did receive a post card from Germany a couple of days after my twenty second birthday. No return address, just a short scrawled _happy birthday_ in his awkward script.

I was thinking of the post card when I went for my mail after work. The lobby to my building sat quiet, empty and a little too warm for late March. I left work early that day because the scratch at the back of my throat and random sneezing fits that left me with an aching head. Thinking that I might be coming down with something my boss sent me home and told me that I shouldn't come in until I felt better. Given that it was a Wednesday I debated taking him at his word and electing for a five day weekend of misery and sickness.

My stuffy nose agreed. I prayed silently that I wouldn't get a sinus infection.

I went high school retro with my music that day. The sounds of Korn's Falling Away from Me pounded into my ear drums. The doors of the elevator opened up to the hallway and there he was, a dark figure sitting on the floor next to my door. Back against the wall, duffle bag sitting innocently next to him. If I hadn't known him better I might have thought him asleep. I did know though. I also knew better than to sneak up on a trained soldier.

I pulled the buds from my ears and called out to him.

Eliot's bowed head came up immediately to expose old, sallow yellow bruises across his left cheek bone and up into his hair line along his temple. I watched him fight a wince of pain as he stood up. He tried to hide favoring one side.

"Jesus Eliot," my stuffy nose and slightly scratchy throat distorted the words a little. I touched the side of his face gingerly, fingers barely ghosting across warm skin. I was too afraid I'd hurt him to press any harder.

He looked at me, his brow furrowed for a moment, blue eyes looking down at me, "You sound like crap."

Tempted to be annoyed with him despite his obvious pain, "You look like crap." I moved past him and slid my key into the lock. "I hope the guy that did that to you looks worse." I don't think he meant for me to see his jaw tighten or the flex of his bruised and semi-scabbed knuckles. Whoever the unlucky soul had been on the receiving end of Eliot's hits probably wasn't alive to tell the tale anymore. Or they had an iron lung doing their breathing for them.

The knowledge should have scared me. It should have made Eliot scary to me.

Neither did which might have been terrifying on its own if I'd bothered to dwell on either.

I sat on my couch, his bed, with a very large cup of chamomile tea in my hands, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders and another over my lap. I put a dreadful horror movie into my DVD player. I like watching bad movies with good looking guys in it when I'm sick. Even if Christian Slater has a receding hair line. So sue me.

Eliot stood in my kitchen brewing his grandmother's cure all rendition of chicken soup. He placed a twenty minute call to his sister to get the recipe. I felt like telling him he didn't have to, that this was going above and beyond the call of duty but hell that food smelled good.

About the time that Tara Reid's impersonation of an anthropologist started to irk me and the overly knowledgeable museum security guard overstepped the bounds of believable I was handed a bowl of the best smelling soup on earth. He had a sandwich and the last of my multigrain tortilla chips to go with his.

He caught me looking at him, scowled at me in return and said, "What?"

I pointedly looked at my chips, "I thought you had manners."

"You make me sit through this movie, I eat these. Fair trade."

"You're buying more tomorrow."

"Tomorrow you're not going to be able to talk let alone eat chips Faye."

Probably, but I still didn't like the sound of him munching on my snack foods. Next he'd be all over my stash of chocolate chip cookies or worse, my ice cream sandwiches. Heaven forbid. While contemplating how to get back at him I ate what I could of the soup. My throat didn't like swallowing but the heat helped relax the muscles. The sinking feeling in my stomach told me I wouldn't have a voice tomorrow. Hopefully it wouldn't be strep like last time. I did not like having to swallow those gigantic antibiotics.

The love scene hit started and I suddenly needed a distraction. Watching this with Eliot felt entirely inappropriate and kind of embarrassing.

"Thank you," my voice started to sound worse, rougher and less like me. I caught him looking at me, eyes off the screen and Christian Slater and a much too young for him Tara Reid stripping off each other's clothes.

"For calling your sister," I added. "For making the soup." For coming back. I left the words unsaid but hanging there. I don't know if he knew what I meant but I could hope he did.

I couldn't read the look on his face. His lips flattened for a moment and I thought he might blow me off. My fingers dug into my cup of their own accord.

"You're welcome Faye," he said.

I offered him a weak, watery smile and sipped my cool tea.

The next day I woke at almost five in the morning according to the bleary red lights on my clock. I felt like my throat was filled with razor blades, broken glass and barbed wire. I don't think I could have talked at that point. I climbed out of bed I didn't want to get Eliot sick so I didn't touch more than I had to. I grabbed the bottle of Nyquil from the bathroom and slunk back to my room. I took the medicine and curled myself under the blankets, covered my head with the sheets and tried to disappear into the darkness.

Fever dreams came. Parts of the movie replaying as if I were actually still watching it. The monster, as CGI as it was on the television screen looked horrifying and far too realistic. I woke right before it reached its scaly hand through the flat screen and tried to claw me to ribbons. My throat still hurt like someone scratched the soft tissue up with rusty nails and my heart beat out an erratic beat from the fear and adrenaline of my dream.

When the nausea hit I dragged myself out of bed just long enough to move my waste basket from the bathroom to the side of my bed. I'd only been asleep three hours. I didn't hear Eliot moving around the apartment at all. I made it back to my bed in time to pass out.

More fever dreams. I took Andy on a cup cake tour of the Village. He loved the little tie-dye ones from Baked by Melissa. He talked about moving in with me when he left the service. When I woke up I expected him to be there, curled up next to me like he always did. He would wrap his arms around me and help me sweat the bug out. I grabbed the cool glass of apple juice on the night stand and swallowed it despite how uncomfortably it went down. Andy always knew to give me apple juice. It doesn't burn like orange juice if it has to come back up.

I pulled the blankets back over my head and made myself sleep again. In my dream Andy came to the side of my bed carrying another cold glass of apple juice and more Nyquil. This time the liquid didn't hurt as much. The pills weren't pleasant to swallow but again, didn't hurt as much as it had the first time. "I miss you sometimes." My dream voice sounded awful, like I'd actually been _swallowing_ razor blades.

His dream self didn't say anything.

"I do." I grabbed his hand and laced my fingers through his, "I hate that you're gone. I wish you would just come back. Every day I think about you." My eyes welled with tears, "I loved you so much Andy."

Andy gently removed his hand from mine and pressed it to my forehead. He shook his head slowly and softly told me I wouldn't remember this later. I gave him a weak smile, closed my eyes and turned over to leave him behind in dream world.

The next time I woke up the garbage can from the bathroom was gone. My head felt a little spinny when I sat up, but my throat felt better. Being able to breathe in through my nose felt like a novelty after all day of sleeping. I blinked at my clock. A little past midnight. Sometime during the day Eliot must have had the courtesy to deposit my slippers next to my side of the bed. They felt warm and fuzzy against my cold feet. After shuffling myself into the bathroom to rinse my mouth and brush my teeth I wrapped my arms around myself and headed out into the kitchen/living room area to find my unofficial roomie.

I found him sitting at the island counter eating some incredible smelling pasta. My stomach rumbled loudly in demand for sustenance.

He glanced at the time on the microwave's clock, "Morning."

I gave him a self deprecating, wry smile, "What a way to spend a Thursday."

"And Friday."

I blinked at him, "What?"

"It's Saturday Faye."

My stomach grumbled again, the sides rubbing against one another almost painfully. I settled into the seat across from him and let the idea that I'd been out two days sink in. "I lost two days?" I sounded almost shocked even though it wouldn't have been the first time. When I had pneumonia about ten years ago I lost four days. My immune system isn't the greatest. Genetic flaw or so I'm told.

He set a small plate of food in front of me and a glass of ginger ale. "Eat slow," he warned before taking his seat again.

Once the spaghetti was gone I felt even better. "I'm a shitty hostess."

Eliot snorted, "You were plannin' on getting sick?"

"No of course not," I reached upward, stretching my muscles out. It felt good, really good. I think a soft sigh escaped my lips while I did. When I came back down I caught him watching me with an expression I couldn't place. He turned away from me before I could try to figure it out. I touched my hair wondering if it started to stick up because of how greasy I'm sure it had to be. I mean, it looked okay in the mirror in the bathroom but…

"So," I said when he grabbed my plate and put it in the sink. "When are you leaving again?"

For a millisecond his shoulders tensed then the tension was gone. Honestly I couldn't actually say it wasn't a trick of my eyes or just in my head. I'm not even sure it happened but I thought I saw it.

"In a few days," he sounded so tired when he said it. Like he didn't want to.

I offered him an understanding smile, "It'll be okay Eliot."

He shook his head, "You don't know what I've been doing Faye."

I could guess. I could imagine. I got up and went to him; I hugged him even though he didn't hug me back. "It'll be okay." I could tell myself the people he hurt deserved it but deep down I don't know if I actually believed it. "Your contract with them can't last much longer, right?"

Eliot pushed me back by my shoulders and stared at me long and hard.

I raised my eyebrows at him as if to ask how stupid he thought I actually was.

He laughed a low, almost self loathing laugh, "He didn't tell me how damn smart you are."

I shrugged, "Andy loved my brain. He pushed me to go to college you know."

"A couple more months," he told me, "and I'm out."

"Then what?"

"I don't know," he replied.

"You'll figure it out." Then I hugged him again.

This time he hugged me back.

What should have only been a couple of months turned into three, and then four. By the time he had been gone five months I decided to stop counting and resigned myself to the fact that Eliot would come back when he wanted to. Or when he could. August came and went and so did the world as it revolved without too much of my participation.

My period of mourning for my husband ended the moment I mentioned to a coworker I thought the FedEx delivery guy was kind of cute.

Friends, better friends now that I decided to give them all a chance, started trying to get me to meet new people. Various people set me up on a series of blind dates between June and September. Some of them I knew about and reluctantly agreed to if only to get the badgering to stop. Others were 'accidental' meetings set up by some very sneaky would be match makers.

I knew I was being none too gently encouraged to get back on the horse.

Personally I wanted to send the horse running in the other direction most of the time.

The guy sitting next to me in the driver's seat of an ugly yellow SUV gave me a slow, sly smile. The kind I thought only existed in Lifetime and B horror movies right before someone got date raped or murdered. That smile said he expected something to happen. After he looked at me like that I regretted not doing what I thought about doing when he picked me up that evening. I should have ganked the s.o.b's wallet when I had the chance.

He leaned over the handbrake with that slimy expression on his face. "So," his breath smelled to high heaven of the oysters he slurped down at dinner. "I think Andrea had the right idea with you and me."

I guess it didn't matter to him that we had noting, I mean absolutely _nothing_ in common. I felt like asking him if he'd spent enough time watching reality television or if our date kept him from getting the gel in his hair just right. I'll admit to being a little bitter right then because he pissed me off in more way than one.

First he sat outside my building in his bright yellow SUV and called my cell phone from downstairs to let me know he was there. Second he made me remove my heels when I got in the car because he didn't want me messing up his upholstery. While we were at dinner he made thinly veiled comments about everything I ordered and the fat content of everything in my meal. Then he told me how his fitness instructor could help me lose those excess pounds. To add insult to injury he believed he would get into my pants.

I wished I'd stolen a knife from the restaurant. I'd have stabbed him with it.

I lamented leaving Eliot's pepper spray in my other purse.

His hand landed on my thigh, squeezing a little through the gauzy material of my skirt. He gave me that one sided smirk again compounded with a slow and lazy stroll of his eyes from my toes to my breasts. His gaze held this irritating cocky spark. As if he knew something I didn't know. Then the prick had the audacity to _wink_ at me.

Andrea warned me this guy had some rough edges and he needed the right girl to smooth them out. I would have loved to. With a sledgehammer to the skull. Lights out. Problem solved. No jury in the world would convict me.

I put my hand over his and gave him a smile so fake it hurt my cheeks just forming it. I linked my fingers on top of his and when he leaned in for a kiss I snapped his wrist back until I felt bone grind against bone. He yowled out a sound that might not have been entirely human and pulled back fast. I took that opportunity to climb out of his ugly, showy, overcompensating SUV and slammed the door in his face.

"Disgusting," I muttered, "horrible…" there just weren't words in the English language to describe how awful that guy had been. I couldn't come up with anything that wouldn't insult the animals that came to mind for comparison sake. Honestly I would have rather dated a pig or a snake. At least then I would have known what to expect!

I texted Andrea with a not too polite message that if she ever set that jerk up with anyone else she'd could expect to be called to the morgue to identify a body. Then I shut my phone off so I wouldn't have to deal with the crap storm of texts of 'why what did he do?' and 'omg was it that bad?' from her.

I tried not to take my anger out on my front door but my heels were killing my ankles and my feet. Why did I let myself get talked into buying stilettos? Christ, I would have worn flats but my date was supposedly six two at least. More like five foot five. What he lacked in height he made up for in sheer stupidity.

After flipping on the lights I took a look at myself in the mirror by the door left over from the last tenant. I looked great but most of that handiwork I couldn't claim. Sarah, a girl from my Judo class, came over and did my make up for the night while I curled my hair. Her beauty school degree didn't do much for her in the world but she was a magician with her makeup brushes. The lavender and grey smokey eyes she gave me off set the buttery soft violet silk blouse I'd donned. She decorated me with bronzer in strategic, almost undetectable spots. While I looked almost like I wasn't wearing blush at all but I knew my cheeks were not always that soft glowing pink. The lip gloss made my mouth look all kinds of pouty and sultry.

Washing all of her hard work off would have been criminal. I thought about going back out and doing something but I really, really didn't want to. Not alone anyway. I began pulling pins from my hair as I walked further into my apartment. I shook out the artfully upswept curls until they fell in a messy bunch down my back and around my shoulders. I'd used enough products to ensure they would not start falling apart any time soon.

I made it a few more steps into my place before I noticed the empty plate sitting in the dish rack and the blue post it sitting innocuously on the island counter. I cast about and found his black and green duffel bag next to the couch. I couldn't help the genuine sense of happiness that came over me. He actually used the key I gave him last time after all his protesting that it wouldn't be a good idea.

I grabbed the note scrawled quickly in his script.

_Groceries. You need to shop more._

_Back in 20._

A moment after I crumpled the paper and tossed it in the garbage the door opened. His hair had been cut a little, now angled to frame his face better. I thought I caught a glimmer of blonde intermixed with his normally dark head of hair.

"Eliot, did you get highlights?"

He turned his head toward me, exposing wire rimmed glasses I'd never seen before. His brilliant grin faltered a little when he looked at me. I swallowed hard. Now that look, _that_ is the look a woman wants from a man. That slow almost wanton appraisal generates its own warmth and leaves a woman half tipsy without ever touching a drink.

The thrill of getting that look from him of all people felt like crossing a line that I wasn't sure I minded crossing.

Eliot dropped the grocery bags on the counter and hugged me tightly. "Hey," his breath disturbed the fine hairs by my ears. I'm sure he felt the faint shiver that traveled down my spine.

The heels added the handful of inches between our height differences. When he pulled back we were almost eye to eye. Something beside the hair cut and the highlights had changed. There was a new light in his blue eyes that hasn't been there in March. I grabbed a few strands of his hair and held it up between us.

"Blonde?"

He gave me a playful scowl, "I'm growing it out."

"Uh huh," I rolled my eyes heavenward while my lips tried not to curve into a smile. Neither of us stepped apart. There were mere inches of space and yet I didn't feel uncomfortable. He smelled like old spice, soap and shampoo.

He gave me a crooked grin and a partially raised eyebrow when he began putting away the groceries he picked up, "How was the date?"

I glowered at him, "How did you know I went on a date? Are you stalking me again?"

Eliot shook his head and jerked his chin toward the answering machine with its single red light. "Andrea wants you to call her when you're home." He pointedly looked at the clock on the microwave, "and she hopes you don't come home too early."

I glanced at the clock as well. Eight fifteen on the dot. "He tried to feel me up," I said in answer to his previous question while peeking into one of the bags. The slamming of a very heavy carton of my favorite ice cream brought my attention back to Eliot.

He growled.

I gave him a wickedly conspiratorial smile, "Don't worry; I broke his hand." I liked the way his eyes refocused suddenly on my mouth. Places inside me that hadn't been alive for what seemed like forever woke up to do little fluttering back flips.

I flopped into one of the bar stool esque chairs I managed to acquire recently. I put my feet up because even just resting they still ached a little. Legs crossed at the ankles to relieve the pressure. I watched him put away half a dozen different items without having to ask me where anything went. It only struck me after he'd put away the first two plastic bags that Eliot didn't have any spectacular skills in the cooking department.

I peeked into the last bag while he put away the third bag, "So who is going to do all this cooking?"

He stopped for a moment shooting me a cocky, crooked grin. "Who do you think?"

"You're dreaming," I told him. "I'm not cooking for you tonight. I already ate. You're shelling out for take out."

"_I'm_ cooking Faye," he almost sounded like he was scolding me.

My eyebrows rose of their own accord. "I think I heard that wrong. Repeat that?"

"I. Am. Cooking."

"Um, Eliot," the idea of letting him near my stove for anything other than breakfast made me cringe. "I don't know how to break it to you old buddy, old pal but you kinda suck at making dinner foods. Even your lunch menu is limited." To sandwiches and reheatable soups.

He pointed one finger at me, "Wait until tomorrow."

I feared for my stomach. The last time I had indigestion bad enough to empty my Pepto Bismol bottle. He was just about done putting the groceries away, his back to me. I stretched out across the table, my head lying on my arm, my hair falling around me. I began playing with the edge of the one of the plastic bags.

"This kind of sucks," I said to his back.

He cast a glance at me from over his left shoulder, "What sucks?"

I indicated my outfit with a grand gesture of my hand, "I spent thirty minutes on my hair. I practically begged Sarah to come over and do my makeup. Together we probably spent another forty minutes plowing through my pitiful excuse for a wardrobe to find this outfit. And what happens?" I tossed my hands up, "The jerk I go out with isn't even worth the effort!"

Eliot shook his head, laughing in that low rumbling, and throaty laugh of his.

"You laugh but you have no idea how many dates I've been on lately, okay." I held up my fingers while I counted off the problems, "The first guy I went out with got a phone call from his momma while we were at dinner. Which is nice, right, if she only calls the once. Did she call once? No, his momma kept calling him. Twelve times in two hours. She wanted to talk to me and tell me what a good sweet boy her little Timmy was and how she knew people who knew people so I'd better not break his blessed heart.

"Then we've got Bozo the clown. He kept playing these stupid little practical jokes on me. All. Night. Long. I kept waiting for him to pull out the hand buzzer. He put on those ugly, fake wax lips when he dropped me off at my place and actually expected me to kiss him!

"Oh, okay, how can I forget the pervert? He picks me up, takes me back to his place and who is waiting there? His _girlfriend_. She thought he finally found someone to have a three way with them."

Arms crossed over his chest, watching me with his head slightly bowed, his warm blue eyes full of mirth. He chuckled in low tones, the corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. Framed by my kitchen, my home, Eliot looked almost as if he belonged here. It felt as if we'd been doing this forever even though we hadn't.

We hadn't. So why did it feel like had?

"Take me out."

The light behind his eyes came back, "where?"

I stood up, my palms tingling, my stomach doing back flips. My feet didn't hurt anymore though I knew they should have. It didn't matter. "Anywhere, doesn't matter. Let's just _go_."

I insisted on flagging down the cab we took back to my place. Eliot's hands weren't really in any condition to be waving about in the air right then. He gritted his teeth and flexed the broken, bruising skin of his knuckles. I expected a rebuke any moment. Technically his pain was my fault. And the fault of the grabby guy I agreed to dance with even though Eliot had been giving me very clear 'do not do it' signals. Of course I ignored his subtle warnings. Now I felt guilty and his anger was still seething.

Thankfully a cab pulled over quickly enough. We piled in; I gave the cabby my address and tried to look as contrite as I felt.

I knew I shouldn't have ignored his warning. I knew it but my head wasn't on straight.

At some point during our evening out my mind chose to connect a ridiculous amount of dots while dropping an atomic bomb in the pit of my stomach. Thinking about it again made my nerve endings exploded into billions of tiny fluttering butterflies and sent my heartbeat into a galloping horse race.

I could not possibly have a crush on my best and only real friend. I couldn't.

From the corner of one eye I watched Eliot flex his right hand again.

My dancing partner, a guy with big, melted chocolate eyes and warm skin seemed nice at first. He seemed courteous, even respectful. He kept his hands above my waist at all times, he listened to me talk, nodding and acting like he was listening. Then the music changed and I tried to go back to my seat. I thanked him for the dance. He wouldn't let my hand go and pulled me back to him. At first I thought he was being funny, cute even, so I went along with it.

Then he started to grind against me with an erection pressing into my hip. I tried to pull away but he tightened his grip on my wrist until it hurt. Before my Judo class I hadn't known you could break someone's grip if you turn against their thumb. It's the weakest point in the hand. The guy dropped my wrist. I walked back to the bar; back to where Eliot sat there with hooded blue eyes and muscles just a little too tense.

That's when my former dance partner made the mistake of calling me a cock tease.

At first Eliot asked him politely to apologize. I'd never heard his voice so quiet and even before. That kind of calm in him should have scared me, I realized later. It didn't, but it should have because it meant he was really, really angry. When the guy that asked me to dance called me a cunt, Eliot never lost it. He smiled at the guy in a way that shook me to my core and said in that level, calm tone, 'thank you'. Then he grabbed the guy's shirt and slammed his fist into the guy's face so hard I thought I heard something snap.

Eliot only hit him three times, just three but the blood coming from the guy's mouth and the way he dropped told me he wouldn't be getting up in the next few minutes. The guy's friends, who had been looking as if they might come to his rescue hung out in a semi circle, none of them taking those handful of steps toward Eliot. Not after their friend hit the floor. I saw it right then, the violence in Eliot that Andy told me about. His expression looked too… satisfied. He looked like he couldn't wait to take on the other four.

"We gonna do this?" He rumbled and I could almost hear the pleasure in his voice when he addressed the four other men.

Logic told me that the shiver running down my spine should be terror, not excitement. Dots connected and I realized with a sort of twisted irony that I had a crush on my best friend. The guy who was there for me through a shit storm, the guy who'd played my protector and who clearly enjoyed hurting people. The thrum of exhilaration that went through me and into the deep, dark parts of me sent me over the deep end. I rounded the bend of never coming back from whatever it was building between us.

"Eliot," I licked my dry lips, "it's not a fair fight."

He cast a glance at me, a dark violence on his face, eyebrow cocked at me.

I tried to play it cool, hoping my voice wasn't shaking. "There are only four of them."

The disturbingly menacing smile he directed at me made my body tighten in places that hadn't felt warmth in a long time. I knew the malice wasn't for me, but for them. To scare them. To egg them into it. He wanted to teach them a lesson with his fists and if I wasn't afraid of the people on their phones ready to call the cops I might have let him.

I picked his jacket up off the back of the chair, "Let's go before you put these jokers in the hospital."

He didn't say anything. He took his jacket silently, blue eyes still on the one closet to him. "Teach your boy some manners," he said, put his good hand on my lower back and ushered me out the door.

We left the bar and made it about a block before I managed to flag down the cab.

I wanted to ask if he was okay but I didn't trust my own voice.

The guilt clawed at me a little. Guilt from not listening to him. Guilt from wanting him as more than just a friend after everything he'd done for me. Guilt for being turned on when I should have been terrified.

I unwound the soft cotton scarf from my neck and gently wrapped it around his right hand. "I'm sorry," I barely heard my own voice over the sound of the rolling tires, the traffic, the sound of the cabby's radio and Eliot's breathing. "I'm sorry," I repeated, apologizing for the things he knew nothing about. Apologizing for the things going on in my head. I felt like such a fuck up.

He didn't say anything; just let me wind the material around his hand. After I finished he wrapped one arm around my shoulders and let me rest my head on his shoulder. I could hear the thunder of his heart beat. I closed my eyes and listened to it, listened to him breathe in and out rhythmically.

Eliot paid the cabby with a twenty and told him to keep the change.

My feet were killing me by the time we made it into the lobby. I wobbled on my stilettos and had to use the wall to steady myself. I heard him chuckling at me while we waited for the elevator.

"Let's see how you walk in these after six hours."

He shook his head, "I'm not as drunk as you are sweetheart."

My heart skipped a beat at the endearment. I licked my lower lip and watched his eyes drop from mine to my lips. "I'm not drunk Eliot. I had three glasses of wine."

The elevator dinged and the door opened letting out several provocatively dressed young women. Younger than me. A couple of them gave Eliot an appraising, appreciative once overs. Jealousy stabbed viciously at my insides when he sent one of them an invitational, flirtatious smile. Before she broke eye contact with him I pushed up that single inch of space between our heights and planted a single, damp kiss against his slightly scruffy jaw bone, inches from his mouth.

Eliot's head snapped my way faster than I'd thought it might. He almost hit my nose with his chin. His eyes were wide, almost disbelieving. I looked back at him, my head tilted to the side, the corners of my mouth curling upward on their own slowly. I felt shy now, and I hoped he could tell that I was in foreign territory. I'd never, never been the first to make a move before and I knew I'd fail miserably at it if I tried.

Always the seduced, never the seducer.

The room seemed to echo with tension for eternity before the ding of the elevator door closing sounded. His hand shot out to stop it from sliding shut and going back up. He ticked his head to the side, his voice a little rougher than usual, "Get in."

I did as told. He stabbed the button for my floor with vehement pressure. Then he put about a foot of space between us. I did _not_ like that. So I leaned to the side and held onto his shoulder, laughing a bit. I kicked up one leg, my fingers going to ease the pressure on my feet while I leaned against him for support. "I can't wait to get these things off."

His arm went around my waist to hold me up. Everywhere he touched me I felt electricity.

I felt his muscles tense through his thick, thermal sweater. I liked the way he looked in it. The way it clung to muscles that made me feel safe while I knew the damage they could do. It was thrilling to be this close to him.

If I hadn't looked up at that exact moment I might have missed it. I might have missed the look on his face, the pained desire completely blatant. He wound one of my curls around one of his fingers silently. His forehead drew together while he looked down at me, a war going on behind his eyes. He watched me like he was torn between doing something and pushing me away. The idea that even he had his limits occurred to me right then.

I bit down on my lower lip, and whispered roughly, "Eliot?"

"Fuck it," he growled.

My back nearly slammed against the faux wood wall of the elevator when he pushed me against it. One of his arms saved my back, dragging my hips forward until I could feel exactly what temptation had done to him. His mouth came crashing down on mine in a violent collision of lips, teeth and tongue. I barely had a chance to breathe before his tongue swept its way into my mouth, plundering until all I could do was moan and kiss him back for all I was worth. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, sucking on his tongue until he groaned wantonly and pressed me hard against the wall. I put it all into that kiss, everything I wanted and everything I wanted to happen. Everything I felt.

When he pulled back I wasn't the only one feeling dazed.

The elevator doors dinging open brought cold reality back to the forefront.

He pulled away like I'd hurt him, "You're drunk Faye."

I glared at him, "I'm not drunk Eliot."

He gave me a pointed look, "Walk a straight line."

"Have you noticed I can barely walk properly in the first place in these?"

He didn't answer. Instead he walked to the door to my apartment and unlocked it. He held it open for me. I did not like the crease between his eyebrows.

"Stop thinking about this," I snapped at him, utterly frustrated with his hot and cold routine. "Stop it. Just stop."

He said nothing. He went around the island counter and grabbed bottled water from the refrigerator. He put it on the counter between us, "You're going to regret this in the morning Faye."

I planted my hands on the counter, leaned forward a little; fairly certain the unbuttoned part of my shirt showed a little cleavage. "No, I won't."

I caught his eyes drop from my face to the v created by the top two buttons of my blouse. When his baby blues came back to my steel greys he grabbed the water and took a sip, "You don't know what I've done Faye." It was barely more than a whisper but I heard it.

"The hell I don't." I'd guessed a while ago.

He wouldn't look at me.

I thought about throwing in the towel, giving up on this for the night. But he could be gone in the morning. Knowing him he might leave just because of this. I did not want that. That kiss in the elevator said he wanted me more than he was letting on right now. I wondered if he was as close to the edge as I was at the moment. I watched him from beneath my lashes. He dragged one hand through his hair.

"Fine," I whispered. "Fine, Eliot. But I'm not the one that's going to regret this. Tomorrow," I told him, "tomorrow I'm still going to compare every guy I meet to you. I'm still going to love the way your voice makes me feel. I'm still going to miss you when you're gone." I stepped out of my stilettos, watching those hooded eyes. "You're the one that's going to regret not coming with me." I let the heat of what I wanted slip into my gaze. "Now watch me walk away from you just like Amiee."

I didn't look over my shoulder at him, but I felt his eyes on my back until I closed the door to the bathroom behind me. I ignored the slamming of things in my kitchen while I took off my makeup and showered. The quiet while I combed my hair and brushed my teeth unnerved me. Did I push too hard? Did he leave? Panic started deep in my chest, maybe throwing his former girlfriend, the girl he loved and left, back in his face crossed the line.

The soft, almost rhythmic creaking of floorboards elsewhere in my apartment a few moments later told me he hadn't gone.

It took me almost two minutes after I finished brushing my teeth to work up the nerve to walk out of the bathroom and into the dark of my bedroom. He didn't stop me, I didn't even see him. I stepped into the bedroom ready to close the door behind me when something occurred to me. If I was listening for him, maybe he was listening for me too. I left the door cracked open a couple of inches. The nervous thready beat of my pulse had my hands shaking while I changed out of my towel and began to pull on the slinky, Victoria Secret silk slip a coworker had gifted to me when I started dating again.

I felt the air shift and change around me when the door to the bedroom opened. The slip fell around my upper thighs a breath later. I looked up at him, a dark figure standing in the doorway backlit by the hallway light. My heart beat thundered in my chest while the rush of my blood roared in my ears.

Now or never.

"Shut the door behind you."

With that handful of words my bravado and the resolve I'd been sporting were spent. My knees threatened to turn into jell-o, my hands traded their previous tremors for toying with the soft lacey edges of the slip. I told my lungs to breathe evenly while my heart pounded out an erratic beat that spoke both about trepidation and a primal hunger that left me almost dazed. Anticipation made my fingertips tingle and lower parts of me tighten until my whole began to ache.

He flicked off the light in the hallway and closed the bedroom door behind him. The darkness that enveloped us felt almost solid and tangible as I listened to his bare feet pad across the room. Instead of grabbing me by the arms and kissing me senseless like I expected, I felt the heat of his body bypass me. My heart dropped into my stomach and humiliated panic threatened to set in. Then the bastard turned on the lamp next to my bed to illuminate the room in a soft ivory glow that dissipated into the shadows.

Skin flushed, more from embarrassment right then than anything else, I watched him standing there next to my bed. He must have changed while I was in the shower. Gone were the dark, stone washed jeans and the blue-gray thermal sweater that made his eyes twinkle and dance the way only blue eyes can. The light illuminated the plain white t-shirt he changed into, casting shadows in various shades of grey across the material. On his hips were sweat pants black and softer than cotton had any right to be.

The nervousness took over what was left of my confidence when he didn't say anything. He stared at the wall, or maybe the lamp or maybe his eyes were just closed. I don't know. It seemed like forever while he stood there unmoving, not speaking. I watched him, waiting. I wanted to say something but I refrained from spoiling the quiet moment. Instead I took whispering steps toward his broad back and pressed myself against him. I lay my cheek against the flat of his spine and wrapped my arms around his waist. His heart beat out a rhythm that nearly matched my own.

"This is wrong," he said, his voice low, rough and tinged with self-loathing.

I pressed a kiss to the middle of his back, my lips moving against the warm fabric of his t-shirt, "Why?"

His head shook slowly, "He asked me to watch out for you not…" His muscles tensed beneath my touch. One of his hands went over mine on his stomach.

There were a dozen things I could, or maybe should have said to him to ease his conscience. I kissed his back again, this time one shoulder blade and then the other. He didn't move. He didn't shake me off. "I was there, I remember. That doesn't mean this is wrong."

That made him move. He broke free of me and turned around, blue eyes searching mine in the dim light. "What do you mean you were there?"

I gathered what I could of my frazzled nerves, pieced together what was left of my courage and took a huge dose of daring. I reached out and grabbed some of his t-shirt in both hands and tried to tug him closer. He wouldn't budge. His hands found my shoulders, squeezing just enough.

"Faye," he said, his voice still a little rough, a little shaky.

I sighed knowing he wouldn't let it go until I told him. "I was standing on the second floor landing behind where the banister gives way to the wall. I heard it all." I shook my head, "Andy shouldn't have done that. He should never have put you in that kind of spot." Then I looked up at him, trying to read what was going on behind those beautiful blue eyes of his. I reached up hoping he wouldn't stop me, going slowly enough so that he could if he wanted to. His grip on my right arm loosened just enough to allow me to maneuver. Gently, ever so carefully I touched the faded scar over his lip. "I'm glad he did. I couldn't imagine having gotten through without you Eliot. I can't imagine my life now without you. You're my best friend." Looking down shyly, "And I hope, maybe, we can be more."

His hands slipped from my shoulders to my waist, fingers curling until they gripped me just shy of painful. He didn't move. His breathing became a shallow whisper against the skin of my wrist. Blue eyes closed as my fingertips ghosted over the warmth of his cheek, exploring the difference between our skins. His eyelashes fluttered as I outlined the shape of each of his eyes. His brow tightened briefly as my fingers found their way across forehead. When I came back down to his jaw the muscles beneath his skin constricted until I was sure Eliot was gritting his teeth. His lips were in a firm, almost flat line.

Gingerly, so that he could have stopped me, I traced the shape of his lips until they fell open in a soft breath against my thumb. He head fell forward just a little as I trailed across and down his scruffy jaw to the nearly burning skin of his neck. His breathing changed at the same time his pulse jumped. The knowledge that I did that to him sent my insides spinning with heady thrums of want. As much as I wanted to explore his body like this I wanted a kiss more. Just watching as he breathed with his lips partially open…

I slid my hand to the back of his neck and tried to tug him down. Blue eyes burning with emotions so hot I smoldered just meeting his gaze. Hands went from my waist to my hips, dragging me into him, body curving over me, gorgeous hair framing his face. I lost my breath as the thickness in his pants pressed heavily against the soft flesh of my stomach. One of the hands on my hips tightened, his thumb stroking in maddening little circles, sparked trails of fire that spread rapidly across my skin. He gazed into my eyes, powerful frame radiating hunger, heat and desire so intense I sagged against him.

"Eliot," I managed his name because my mind was about to give up on me.

Then he tilted his head and pressed his mouth to mine. The pure tenderness of his soft lips against mine shocked me. Knowing the level of violence he was capable of, and with what I'd seen him do I didn't expect such gentleness when he kissed me. Eliot held me ever so carefully, as if I might have been made of spun glass and he was afraid of shattering me.

My heart jumped into my throat. I kissed him back, doing what I'd wanted to do for hours now. I buried my fingers in his long locks, pressed up on the tips of my toes and opened my mouth to him. His tongue swept past my lips, teasing as he pressed harder against me. The fire that had begun to build between us turned liquid in almost an instant. I found myself on the bed, his blunt fingers pushing up the hem of my flimsy excuse for clothing while his tongue in my mouth informed me of exactly what he planned to do.

I sighed his name when he pressed one finger into me. As slippery as I could be, it had also been two years since I'd had **that** kind of work out. He made a sound at the back of his throat that could only be described as _pleased_. His masculine resonance of triumph sent my insides clenching around his questing digit. His mouth tore from mine for a franticly murmured oath.

"Easy sweetheart," Eliot's strained, lust filled voice touched my skin like warm velvet, "relax for me. I don't want to hurt you."

I ended up giggling and tugging him down to kiss me. Our open mouths slid desperately across one another. I felt like a virgin in a romance novel with my first lover preparing me for a night of orgasmic bliss before the fall out our relationship would cause. I nipped at his lower lip, gripping his hair while my hips undulated in time to the rhythm his fingers set between my legs. I would never have described his hands as masterful before then, but his thumb knew the intimacies of my nethers like I'd never experienced.

Then again, I'd only been with one other man in all my life.

When he pressed a second finger into me pain threatened but didn't quite catch. He hovered over me, blue eyes watching to make sure I could take it. I lifted my hips in response because I didn't really care if it hurt at that point. I just wanted him inside me. My eyes closed, my back arcing upward of its own accord, fingers no longer buried in his hair but clawing at the sheets. Still his thumb toyed with the sensitive nub at the apex of my thighs while his fingers danced inside me holding me just there. At the edge but not quite over it.

A litany of the word please began to fall from my lips.

I wasn't sure what I was asking for I was so out of my mind. Maybe for the damn orgasm those talented fingers were promising but had yet to deliver. I might have been asking for him to just slide inside me already and give me what we both had been wanting for I don't know how long. Maybe for him to just put me out of my misery because I just couldn't take much more.

Then he kissed me. Hard. Teeth clashed, tongues dueled and his fingers slid out of me leaving a sharp ache for him at their loss. One of his arms wrapped around my waist to pull me up, slide me into his lap. I hadn't even realized he was kneeling on the bed until that moment. I straddled him wantonly, feeling his erection hard and thick between us.

"Too many clothes," I murmured, tugging at his t-shirt until he had to let go of me, arms over his head while I peeled the clothing off him. I leaned into his bare chest, licking and nipping where I could. Drawing growling sounds from him that had my insides quaking with pure desire. Blue eyes, dark with hunger stared down at me when I tossed his shirt off the side of the bed. I made certain that he watched when I took the hem of my slip in my hands and slid it upward until I tugged it free of my hair. It dropped when he crushed his mouth against mine once again.

We both fumbled with the tied knot in the draw string to his sweats, fingers tangling until we were both laughing. I flopped back on the bed then, waiting with what I hoped was a sexy come hither expression. He climbed off the bed and pulled free a little foil packet. Eliot tossed it to me then shoved his pants down.

My mouth went bone dry. Three fingers might have added up to well…that, but hell two sure was not enough. I think I had the grace to blush. He must have liked it because the next moment he was on top of me again, kneeling between my legs, nudging me open until I felt bare to his gaze. I felt my whole body tighten and tingle when he looked down at me like that. Like he could devour me whole and still not have had enough. He ripped into the foil with his teeth and rolled the latex on with the kind of practice I should have been more worried about.

Then he pulled me into his lap again, acting as if I weighed nothing. Which I found incredibly sexy. I felt the thickness of him sliding back and forth between my nether lips and wiggled a little to get him to just slide in.

"Faye," he murmured my name in a husky whisper that had me desperate and clenching. "Look at me sweetheart, look at me."

I did as he asked, meeting his passionate gaze. The fingers of his left hand went into my hair, cupping the back of my skull while his other arm wrapped around my waist. Then I felt him, the rounded head pressing upward and I shook, clawing at his back, a keening sound in my throat. He pressed his forehead against mine, our eyes still locked until he was fully seated inside me. He hissed out a breath as I gasped at the sensation of fullness.

I felt my inner muscles flutter around his length.

Eliot growled, low and just shy of threatening into the air between us, "You're going to make me come."

I ran my tongue along the seam of his lips, whispering wetly, "I thought that was the point cowboy."

The devilish grin he gave me in return only added to the heat of the moment. His hips began rolling in shallow thrusts that had me drawing in sharp breaths. I had to grab his shoulders, holding on for dear life and sanity as he rocked upward into me. I found the rhythm, matching his upstroke to my down. I loved the way his muscles worked and bunched, the way his arm tightened around me, his panting breaths and our sweat slicked skin.

Everything felt like too much. I closed my eyes drawing his movements and mine into sharp focus. He kissed me again, moaning my name with a harsh need in his voice. I'd been pushing him all night and now it seemed to be paying off. His thrusts became wild, rapid, his face pressed into the crook of my neck, breath hot and moist on my skin. The hand in my hair let go to slip between us.

The instant his talented thumb brushed over my clit I climaxed in a rush that had me screaming into his neck. I clawed at him, his name falling again and again from my lips. Three, four more frantic thrusts and I felt him pulse inside me, moan against my skin. Boneless he let me slip down and fall on the bed. He stood up, semi-hard and took care of the condom. By the time he returned to the bedroom I'd managed to clean myself up enough not to be embarrassed. I'd turned down the sheets and climbed beneath them.

Normally I didn't sleep naked, but with him I wanted less between us in case…well…

He didn't ask if he would be sleeping with me, he pulled on his sweatpants again and joined me in the bed. Eliot pulled me against his side, kissing me slowly with a reverence that took my breath away.

"Can we do that again tomorrow?"

He cast a glance at the clock on the nightstand. "Sweetheart, I'm not waiting another twenty four hours to be inside you again." His arms tightened around me, lips brushing over mine gently. "Now that I've got you I'm not letting go."

I smiled into his skin, "Ditto."

When he said he didn't want to wait until tomorrow I thought he might have been joking. I thought he'd at least wait until I got a decent night's sleep. I woke up to truly earth-shattering orgasmic sex sometime around dawn. Then he let me sleep again. The second time I woke up it was to a warm hand gently squeezing my shoulder and his voice telling me it was almost nine in the morning. I moaned, less of a sexy sound and more of a 'dear god I've created a monster' sound.

"Leave me alone, you sex fiend." I gathered the pillow and pulled it over my head.

My antics must have amused him because I heard his rumbly laugh. The sound seemed to pluck at every nerve ending on my body until I couldn't help but be awake. Begrudgingly I sat up and glared at him, dark hair fell into my eyes completely ruining the effect. He smiled at me, a genuine heart stopper of a smile that had me gathering a fist full of his shirt and pull him closer.

Eliot allowed it; one of his hands planted on the bed to give him leverage as he leaned in and kissed me. The fingers of my free hand tunneled through his hair, rough silk that fell like water between the digits. Legitimately I knew I should have been tired but when he crawled atop my naked body again I couldn't possibly think of letting _that_ get the better of me. I reached for the draw string on his pants and he groaned a frustrated sound.

He pulled back; blue eyes dark and filled with want looked down at me, and murmured "I'm out of condoms."

I shrugged, "I'm on the pill."

For several long moments he seemed to consider it. His eyes trailed down the length of my body and his cock bobbed insistently between us. Then he muttered something under his breath and slid off of me. "Much as I want to," the heat in his eyes when he ran a hand up my calf said yes, he really did want to. "The pill isn't 100 percent."

I looked pointedly down at the prominent tent in his pants, and then met his gaze again. I had to give credit where credit was due, that man had to have some serious self control if he could turn down a willing woman on birth control. Any other man wouldn't have said no. I flopped back on the bed. "Great, now I feel like the sex fiend."

He laughed and tugged me down by my ankles until he stood between my legs. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me up for another kiss. "Get in the shower, sex fiend. I'm working on breakfast."

I would have pointed out that I showered last night but the pleasant soreness between my legs reminded me that I probably smelled like him and sex by now. The shower felt good and when I exited the bathroom I smelled vanilla and bacon and dear god I hoped those were pancakes cooking. My stomach growled loudly in response. Once I was dressed I found him in the kitchen, moving around like he owned the place. I settled down in my usual chair at the island counter and watched him cook. Something had changed in him. Something I couldn't quite place. Not that I would argue with the difference. As much as I cared about the pre-change Eliot, this post-change Eliot made my heart flutter like it hadn't in nearly two years.

For the first time, in a long time, I thought I might be able to be happy again. With him.

He set a plate of bacon, eggs and two pancakes in front of me. "Better than oatmeal and toast?" Eliot asked.

I shot him a half hearted glare, "Don't knock my oatmeal. I'm going to need the calories to keep up with you."

He sat down on the stool across from me, blue eye twinkling with mischief, "I'm not the one who tried to seduce you into a third round this morning sweetheart."

I took a bite of pancake and nearly died from the heavenly taste. I must have done more than make yummy sounds because suddenly the heat was rolling off Eliot in waves. He watched me acutely, breakfast all but forgotten. I had the grace to blush under his intensity. Once I took a sip of milk and was able to fathom words. "Did someone teach you to cook?"

The corners of his mouth turned upward, "Something like that." He reached across and moved his thumb over my lower lip to wipe away some syrup. He brought the digit back to his mouth and licked the maple off with a purely erotic flick of his tongue.

I almost fell off the stool. I had to swallow and blink a few times before my brain managed to come to terms with him. "So…um…drugstore?"

"After breakfast."

As good as the food was it didn't hold up under the yearning to get him back into bed. I almost forgot my purse when he grabbed my hand to pull me out of the apartment. The elevator didn't reach my floor fast enough so we took the stairs. I giggled when he caught me up in his arms, kissing me fervently just as we left the building. I threw my arms around his neck, kissing him back just as boldly. A catcall from across the street told us to get a room.

"Good idea," I said against his lips.

He kissed me harder murmuring, "Drug store."

September days in Brooklyn managed to stay as warm as August days had been. We held hands on the walk to the subway and down the steps only breaking apart to swipe my metro card through the turnstiles. In the subway car he held me tight, arm around my body as he held onto the overhead poll. I caught the envious looks a couple of women gave us. Him in a deep green t-shirt that only served to display his muscles in all their sexy glory, while I decided on a soft grey cotton tank dress for the day if only to make him squirm and get us home faster. I leaned into him, ignoring the way people looked at us. He smelled good like soap, toothpaste and clean laundry.

I laced my fingers with his as the rest of the world passed by. "Tell me something about you that no one else knows," I whispered as we waited for our stop.

His fingers tightened on mine, "I miss you when I'm not here."

My heart skipped a beat, "I miss you too."

Eliot began to trace little circles on the back of my hand with his thumb, "Your turn."

I bit my lower lip, and then murmured, "Every day I come home hoping you'll be there, and when you're not I tell myself tomorrow you will be. I think I fell for you a while ago, and didn't realize it until last night."

His mouth came down on mine almost brutally, tongue delving into my mouth when I gasped. The fingers of his other hand dug into my hip, holding me close as we could get. When we finally came up for air I felt dazed. I reached up to grab hold of the overhead rail if only to steady myself. If others were watching us I couldn't have cared less. Us, Eliot and me that was all that mattered.

Our stop came and went.

I looked up at him when he made no move to get out.

He rolled his shoulders, "You've got work on Monday. I only have two days with you before you're gone for almost ten hours a day."

I couldn't help the frown, "You know I won't blow you off for work."

Eliot pressed another kiss against my lips, "Doesn't mean I want to waste the day in bed. I want to, sweetheart, believe me. I **want** to but we're not going to."

I groaned, punching him lightly in the chest. "You suck."

His lips quirked, "I didn't hear you arguing last night. Or this morning."

I flushed red and buried my face in his shirt. "Fiend."

We switched trains twice. When we finally reemerged into the world we were in Central Park. I couldn't imagine what he had planned so I followed. Like those that lived in the city forever he didn't bother looking up to figure out where he was going. I looked up at the trees, still green this early in fall and breathed in deeply. I don't care what anyone says about this city. I love New York no matter what it might smell like. After living here two years I still had a list of things I wanted to do and hadn't done yet. I wondered how much time Eliot actually spent in New York without me. Did he go exploring the city on those days I left him home while I worked? Or was his sense of direction that awesome?

I started to regret wearing low heels once we reached Balto in all his bronze glory. A man a little older than me, maybe a little younger than Eliot hoisted his son up on his shoulders so the boy could pet Balto's nose while the boy's mother took a picture of them both. I couldn't help it. The thought came unbidden. I wondered how the child Andy and I could have had would have looked. If it would have been a boy or a girl. If I would have been pregnant at that moment or if we'd be working on baby number two. So many questions of a life never lived.

I must have stopped to watch the family in their happiness because Eliot called my name. When I came back to reality I found him watching me, blue eyes hooded. "You okay?" His voice was a murmur of caring but I hated that I couldn't read his expression.

I tried to smile but felt it falter as I looked at him. "Yeah. Fine." I squeezed his hand and tried to brighten up. "So are you going to tell me where we're going or are you going to drag me around through Central Park until you reveal the secret?"

My answer and curiosity seemed to pacify him enough. We walked, his fingers linked with mine, and we talked. He asked about work. What I'd been doing while he was gone. I told him about not being able to find a Tae Kwon Do class I liked so I picked Judo instead. The friends I'd made. I asked about what he'd been doing. He gave me that look, the one that said he wouldn't talk about it and he didn't plan on talking about it. Ever. I asked him about where he learned to cook and found out that was part of the reason he'd taken so long in coming back. He stayed three months to learn from a chef. Toby.

The way he smiled when he talked about Toby, I felt grateful to a man I'd never met. Eliot moved his free hand while he talked, gesturing, demonstrating. He looked almost like a kid in a candy store when he told me about what he learned to do with figs and how caramel éclairs were worth all the effort and a handful of recipes that I couldn't even begin to pronounce. Words rolled off his tongue like water over rocks. I stopped so that he felt the pull of leaving me behind. He stopped in front of me, head cocked slightly.

"Faye?"

I crooked a finger at him, "Come here."

A delightful, mischievous glint entered his gaze, "What do I get if I do?"

Hooking my fingers in his belt loops I tugged him closer. The heels helped a little to close the difference between our heights but I pushed up on the tips of my toes anyway. "What do you want?"

Eliot leaned in, his breath tickling the fine hairs by my ears. His voice dropped to a low husky sound that turned my knees to jell-o and sent my heart galloping faster than my grandfather's best horse. "You know what I want sweetheart."

Two could play at that game. I ran my tongue along the pulse in his throat, "Find us a quiet place then."

He let out a string of curse words under his breath, looking up and around. There were people everywhere. Eliot dragged a hand through his hair, blue eyes closing, lips parted just slightly as he thought.

I should have felt bad for doing that to him but all I wanted to do was make him want me more. I wanted to make him want me so badly he'd have to drag me somewhere semi-private and teach me a lesson I'd never forget. I pressed open mouth kisses to his neck teasing the jumping of his pulse until he groaned and pulled away.

Dilated pupils looked back at me; his breath came in sharp and hard. He grabbed my hand again, tugging me with him until I had to almost speed walk to keep up. We moved down a path past other people, Eliot looking left then right before going on.

Giggling, "Easy cowboy, you're acting like a teenager with raging hormones."

He shot me a dark, hungry look that stole my breath away.

I shivered and shut my mouth. Maybe teasing Eliot hadn't been the best plan of attack.

We neared the Loeb boathouse. I could hear water splashing and the paddling boats. The distinct sounds of people, families, friends, all having fun. A thrill of excitement went through me as we ducked around others to get wherever it was Eliot wanted to go. He took me around the side of the building toward the denser trees when we stopped. Just up ahead one of the boat engineers came out of a side door. Eliot let my hand go for a moment and told me to wait right there.

He went up to the guy and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. The engineer looked at Eliot, looked behind him at me and then at the wad of cash Eliot offered him. Then the guy smiled this knowing smile, took the money and said something to Eliot. I only approached after the guy left.

"What was tha-"

Eliot kissed me until I forgot what I wanted to say. Dazed I found myself inside a small room, supplies lined the shelves and a workbench sported a small engine that looked as if it had seen better days. Then I heard a lock flip. I turned around in time to see Eliot's hand coming away from the door.

"How much did you give him to leave us alone for twenty minutes?" I asked.

"Two hundred to take his lunch break early," then he was on me again, kissing me until my legs wouldn't support my weight. "We've got an hour," he murmured against my lips, "now what were you saying about a quiet place?"

"That's a lot of money to spend on getting me alone."

His gaze turned from hot to searing, "Worth it."

I didn't touch him the way he wanted, not at first. I pulled at his shirt until he took it off, dropping it on the workbench behind him. Fire licked beneath my skin as I got a much better look at him in the daylight. The Eliot buffet before me was all warm skin and solid muscle. My mouth watered while heat pooled low in my belly.

I smiled wickedly, undoing the buckle on his belt. "You might want to hold onto something cowboy." The button on his fly popped open and the zipper eased down around the hardening erection in his pants. Then I dropped to my knees and showed him exactly how worth it I could be.

* * *

The picture of us taken near Alice in Wonderland, the left-over's in the freezer and the nearly empty box of condoms in the nightstand are all I have left after the month he spent with me. One whole month. I couldn't go with him to JFK the day he left. Sneaky bastard scheduled his flight during a meeting that I'd been prepping over a week for. This time though, I got a phone number. Eliot warned me that he might not pick up. He said that it could take days to get back to me. Of course he wouldn't tell me where he was going, who he was going with or when he'd be back.

The first weekend after he left I sent him two picture messages. One shot of the bed. The other a shot of me, on the bed. Naked. Twenty minutes passed before my phone started ringing. Amusement bubbled inside my chest when I saw his number on the caller ID.

His voice, a low growling whisper, "Honey, you're killing me."

I sighed softly, "Are you telling me that you didn't like that?" Footsteps, faint voices in the background. I didn't ask where he was or who he was with. I wanted to, but I didn't.

"I love it," that rough husky quality told me he wasn't lying, "but I can't do anything about it right now."

"You could just listen." The idea of phone sex had me turned on and smoldering already.

He made a sound of frustration followed by a muttered, intelligible curse before speaking again, "I can't. Believe me, if I was home with you…" he let the promise trail off. Then he groaned a little, "Just tell me you're still naked right now."

I smiled up at the ceiling, "You know I am."

"Sleep like that; I'll try to call you in the morning." A male voice, accented, maybe Russian or something Eastern European calling 'Spencer'. Why were they calling him that? Eliot growled his annoyed growl. His voice went into a low whisper again, "I gotta go. Keep your phone on."

The line went dead. I hung up. Man had issues with the words good bye.

He didn't call the next day. Or the next.

October got colder and turned into November. I sent periodic messages that went unanswered. I didn't call. I wanted to but I didn't. I spent Thanksgiving with my grandparents when they flew up from Missouri to see me. For people approaching their eighties they were still fairly spry. They asked after Eliot. I told them what I could, that he was working and he'd call if he could.

He didn't.

November became December. My resolve to let him do his job and not worry broke on Christmas Eve. I'd flown down to Missouri to spend Christmas with them. My grandparents had gone to bed for the evening, telling me Santa wouldn't like me staying up. Maybe if I went to sleep my Christmas present would be at the front door come morning.

Most of the dogs were stretched out on the floor in front of the fireplace. I sat with my back to the couch and dialed his number. It rang once. Then an electronic tone played and a voice informed me that the number I had dialed was no longer in service.

I threw the phone at the wall.

It was a shitty Christmas.

The vacation time I'd amassed from work allowed me to stay with my grandparents until just after New Years. I couldn't stay for my birthday though. My boss would have had a conniption fit and frankly, being home still reminded me too much of my old life. Not that I really wanted to get back to my new life. I worried about Eliot. I told myself I could be pissed off once I found out he was okay.

I called Dryer. After having not spoken to him for a few years I figured he wouldn't remember me. Or his annoying habit of calling me by a pet name. I was wrong. "Baby doll," I could hear the grin in his voice and the adjustment of his belt. He always played with his belt when he saw me. "How's the prettiest girl I've never slept with?"

Only he would completely ignore how wrong it was to openly admit to wanting to sleep with a former squad mate's wife. I would have called him a pervert like I used to before Andy died. The word was on my lips before I realized it. I swallowed it back and tried to play casual. Tried being the operative word. "Dryer, have you talked to any of the old squad lately?"

Immediately his voice went from playful banter to guarded business, "Why?"

I closed my eyes and breathed out, "Please Dryer, I just need to know if Eliot is okay."

The other end of the line went incredibly quiet as if he'd put me on mute. When his voice came back it was less guarded. "Baby doll, tell me you didn't do what I think you did. Tell me you're smarter than that."

My whole body went cold from the tips of my fingers down to my sock encased toes. "I care about him," the voice coming from my lips was a hushed whisper, "a lot."

Dryer groaned a pained sound, "Jesus. You did." He went quiet again, oh so quiet.

Fear crept up my spine. Despite the warmth in the apartment I shivered. "Is he dead?"

"No baby doll." Dryer's voice was harsh, almost angry. "He isn't. Do yourself a favor. Forget about him. He's doing some bad shit for some very bad people."

"But he's alive," I said.

"Listen, don't call me about him anymore. I can't afford to get involved." He hung up.

I listened to the dial tone for a while before it went to beeps and then the operator. Eliot kept that part of his life separate from the time he spent with me. He didn't mention places, he didn't share anything he'd done or would do and he didn't mention names. No, wait. He had mentioned one name, once. While we lay in bed, post-coital bliss, bodies still coming down from the high we gave each other he mentioned one name. When I asked when he would have to leave me he said that he wouldn't have to start working for Moreau for another couple of weeks.

His absence seemed even more apparent the more time went by. Three months without contact wasn't exactly strange considering out relationship as it stood. Though, it really wasn't friendship anymore. Not to me. I cared about him. A lot. The L word hung in the air but I didn't trust myself enough to voice it let alone think it.

I wanted to call his sister but I didn't have her phone number or full name. Hell I wasn't even sure about _Eliot's_ last name. He told me he changed it a few years ago but from what I didn't know. All I did know was that now he went by Spencer. Eliot Spencer.

The month of January went by like molasses in the cold.

When Valentine's Day rolled around I literally could not take the seas of red, pink and white flowers everywhere. The smell of chocolate and roses started to irritate me. The girly gushing over dinner plans and jewelry and wonderful boyfriends with their wonderful, wonderful lives made me want to punch someone's face in. I took a half day before I vomited on the next person to ask about what I would be doing that day.

There were people cuddling on the subways. People kissing on the street.

Red and pink hearts **every-fucking-where**.

It felt like a goddamn conspiracy to make me miss him more. I fought the envy and the tears back as I stormed up the stairs. The plan in my head was to eat a ridiculous amount of Tin Roof Sundae and drink copious amounts of wine until I either passed out or got really fat. I made certain to slam the door to my apartment behind me. It closed with a satisfying crack-slap that echoed through the room. A frustrated sound clawed its way up my throat.

Why did I get involved with him? Why the hell did I let myself get involved with yet another man who would disappear at a moment's notice and not reappear for months at a time? Why would I let myself fall for yet another man like that?

So engrossed was I in my self-pitying that I failed to notice the olive colored duffle bag by the door and its twin sitting innocuously on the couch. I didn't see him come around the corner from the short hallway until he was standing a few feet away from me.

My purse hit the floor when I jumped in surprise. "Eliot," his name on my lips sounded so much like the relief flooding my veins and the shock that brought tears to my eyes.

Then I tackled him. Or tried to at least. I wrapped my arms around his body, pushed up onto the tips of my toes and kissed him with everything I had. I thought I heard him sigh, I thought I felt him kiss me back. I thought I felt him _respond_ to me if only for a moment.

He didn't though. He didn't respond or kiss me back. He waited until I dropped back to the floor and then he did the most painful thing he could have done at that moment.

He stepped back away from me.

My heart sank into my stomach and fear tightened my throat, "Eliot?"

He dragged a hand through his almost shaggy hair. I could see where the blond highlights gave way to his natural brown shade. He breathed out heavily, "You weren't supposed to be here Faith."

He never called me by my full name unless something was wrong. A cold heavy feeling coiled in my chest. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to answer him. I said the only thing I could think of at the moment. "You were supposed to call me back in the morning."

He looked sharply away from me.

I swallowed around a sob. I wouldn't cry. I would not cry. "What happened?"

For a moment I thought he'd tell me. His mouth opened just slightly, enough to indicate he would have said something, anything. When his lips closed, pressing flat until they were a grim line whatever he had to say was lost. "This was a mistake."

My eyes burned, "Coming here or being with me?"

He shook his head, "Both."

Something inside me cracked. My eyes watered, "I love you Eliot."

"I know," he looked at me, blue eyes harder than diamonds, "I bet Dryer it wouldn't be that easy. He was right. You were."

Something immeasurable and excruciating ripped free in my chest when the stark reality of what this, us, actually meant came into focus. I heard my hand cracking across his face before I realized it was me hitting him. I hit him and he let me at first. I drove a fist into his chest and then another, blindly wanting to hurt him the way I'd been hurting for the last couple of months. The way I hurt right then.

He grabbed my wrists to stop me so I switched to venom. There were tears streaming down my cheeks, hot saline burning from my eyes as I yelled at him. Screamed at him. When my body began to sag from the effort and my voice went hoarse, his face bore my handprint and his neck sported scratch marks from my nails. I yanked away from him, turning my wrists into his thumbs to break the hold.

I had the feeling he let me go. That he could have kept me there and let me cry it out. He didn't though. He took up one bag and passed me to get the other.

"Don't you ever come back here," I didn't recognize my voice when I spoke. The crying and the screaming made me sound horrible. "Don't you ever contact me again."

He pulled open the door, "I won't." The door closed solidly behind him.

My legs, weak and wobbly as they were, wouldn't support me anymore. I was surprised they held up that long. As I sat there on the cold wooden floor I tried to make sense of everything but lucidity stood just outside my reach. Grief took over the moment I tried to breathe. When I tried to come to terms with really never seeing him, never hearing his voice, never hearing him say my name again…the tears flooded once more. A vast empty hole where he used to be swallowed up what was left of my heart.

I curled up into a fetal ball there on the floor and wept.

Surviving post-Eliot became a sort of static, repetitive routine. Wake, eat, work, cry, sleep and round again. Most nights I went to bed in tears and woke with dried saline on my face. I would grab at my phone in desperate moments, dialing numbers only to stop and throw the phone away from me. The hollow spot in my chest where my heart used to live would expand at random devastating moments that threatened to shatter my world. I felt light headed and spinny sometimes. I would miss the stops nearest to my apartment building and not care enough to get off the subway.

There were days where I didn't bother sleeping. Or eating.

I couldn't escape the agony in my dreams so I avoided them when I could afford to. Leaving the television on to fill the void only seemed to make things worse. It filled my home with voices, and ghosts of people that weren't there.

I felt nothing but the pain. Thought of nothing but what I could have done to make him stay. What I could do to make him come back. I would start crying again and I would fall asleep in my clothes on the couch where his scent still lingered on the pillows.

Aside from work I spoke to almost no one. I stopped going to Judo classes, stopped going for drinks after work. I hadn't called my grandparents at all. I sent falsely cheerful emails, birthday cards with happily scrawled personal notes via snail mail. I tried to make sure tears didn't stain the paper. I knew that if I talked to either of them I'd break even more though I didn't think it would have been possible. My heart had been ground into microscopic slivers that sliced at my insides with every breath. The poor pitiful organ had nothing left to give and yet it still managed to beat on and on in my chest.

My apartment never felt so empty before. I saw his ghost everywhere, in the kitchen, meditating on the couch, doing katas on the rug. It made the ache all the more acute. I had the feeling that at any moment I would start bleeding fatally from the hole in my chest. I almost welcomed the prospect because death would have been so much better than living like that.

To this day I'm not sure how I survived. To tell the truth though…I'm not really sure I did sometimes.


	3. The Future

"He's hot, right?" One of the waitresses, Lori I think, said while I tallied the credit receipts from earlier in the day.

The pub has been open for almost two weeks now and business was booming practically every day. Save tonight, a slow Monday evening that left the handful of on hand staff a little bored. Myself included. Instead of disappearing into my office like usual I decided to show solidarity in my boredom and sit at the bar to finish out some of the day's work.

I didn't bother looking up at her after I hit the plus button on the calculator, "Who is?"

From the corner of my eye I saw her shift a little. Her elbows and back rested against the polished wood of the bar, "The house chef. The one with the long hair."

That got my attention.

I'll admit to avoiding Eliot as much as humanly possible these past couple of weeks. With the soft opening and then the grand opening a week later, it proved easy enough to stay away from him. He handled the kitchen, the cooks, the busboys and the menus. I handled the wait staff, the bartenders, the bookkeeping and the occasional customer. In all I spent around five minutes near him a week, maybe. In all I'd spoken a handful of words mostly consisting of 'thank you' and 'you're welcome.' If I didn't see him then I didn't think about him besides conjuring up preplanned reasons to excuse myself if we happened to end up alone together.

Chicken? Me?

Cluck.

As gutsy as I could be that didn't mean talking to him would be easy. Especially when I knew something he probably had no clue about. I knew for a fact Eliot lied to me about the bet with Dryer. How did I know? Dryer, that crazy son of a bitch showed up at my door literally three months to the day after Eliot unceremoniously ended our budding relationship. After I assaulted Dryer to the point that he had to physically restrain me, and after I wore myself out trying to hurt him too, everything came out when Dryer asked what happened.

I do mean everything. I spilled the beans about the couple of years since Andy's death. As it turned out Dryer hadn't spoken to Eliot since Eliot left the service.

Eliot lied to me. That hurt worse than the break up. He lied to get rid of me.

I hit the plus button so hard the calculator's plastic parts squeaked in protest. Thinking about Eliot and our mutual past made me angry. Listening to a bottle blond post adolescent lust over him left me down right pissed off. "Don't you have work to do?"

Catty? Me?

"Boss, if I ask either of my tables if they need anything else once more time, they will both leave me crappy tips."

I sighed to myself, "Can you pretend to do something then? You're on the clock."

"I am," she replied, "I am checking out the hottie in the kitchen."

I bit the inside of my cheek and refocused on the task at hand. Not thinking about Eliot doing a lot more than kissing with someone eight years younger than me, at least three to four inches taller than me with a leaner frame. A girl that looked like a much younger version of the girl he'd given a promise ring to. Trying to lose myself in the mindlessness of adding up numbers seemed impossible when that realization came over me. I only saw one picture of Amiee once while piling his laundry in with mine. He'd taken it back without so much as a word, stuffing it into his wallet. That was before we were together, and after we were I never heard about her again.

I should not care. On some level I still did though. My self-esteem and ego took a blow every time I remembered.

"So," she said, "I mean he is right? He's hot. His eyes are just so…mmm. Like when he looks at you it makes you want to, I dunno. He's just…yummy." She breathed out a dreamy sigh that felt like a cheese grater going over my skin.

I wished for more customers so she would just stop talking. I contemplated walking into the back and telling Alec I'd save him some money by closing up shop for the night but it was only nine fifteen. The pub would be open until eleven.

"Think he'd hook up with me in the stock room?"

I hit the total button much too hard. The calculator did a hopping nosedive off the side of the bar would have crashed into the floor. A pale hand grabbed it midair and set it back on the bar.

Parker smiled at me, all straight white teeth and big blue eyes, "Bad day?"

The appearance of the boss' girlfriend seemed to give Lori the kick in the butt the girl needed to get away from me. I thankfully watched her go back to check on her tables. "Have you ever wanted to yell at someone and knew you couldn't because they work with you?" I turned back to look at Parker who was smiling this smile that I couldn't quite understand. Then again after two weeks I barely knew her. I knew two things. She was dating Alec and she liked shiny jewelry enough to have been the only person to comment on the engagement ring, wedding ring and locket on my necklace.

I pushed the calculator back into place on the bar, "Thanks. I'm so clumsy sometimes it's not even funny."

"It is a little funny," Parker wrinkled her nose, squinted her eyes and pinched her fingers together, "this little."

I couldn't help the laugh that left my mouth; it was wrought with self-deprecation. "Sure. Poke my wounds."

The corners of her mouth crept upward but she didn't say anything.

Thankfully the calculator hadn't lost the last number. I copied it into the ledger. "What can I help you with?"

"We're watching a movie in back, want to join us?"

I opened my mouth to say no thank you or I'd like to but I can't, but the synapses between my brain and mouth must have misfired because instead I said, "What movie?"

"Hardison said Krull. He's trying to get me to watch more cult classics." She shrugged, "I don't really get some of them but he likes them."

I bit down on the inside of my lip to keep myself from telling her I'd seen it. I'm a science fiction and fantasy nerd when it comes to movies. And I'm a sucker for a good triumph over evil, guy gets the woman he loves back and beats the shit out of the bad guy. "Good movie, I think it was one of Liam Neeson's first few movies."

Her brow furrowed as a frown formed, "You've seen it already?"

I rolled my shoulders sheepishly, "Little bit of a movie buff." Understatement, but then she was dating someone who was an admitted geek so I doubted she cared. "I'd love to Parker, I would. I haven't seen Krull in a really long time but I can't. I have a pile of paperwork to finish tonight. I still have to count out the drawers and we still have customers."

The blonde rolled her eyes heavenward. "You can lock up when you leave. Jason," the bartender, "knows how to shut the pub down. The paperwork can wait until tomorrow morning. You always get here early anyway." Parker then called over Jason, informed him she was taking me hostage and he would be in charge. No more than five minutes later I was sitting on a somewhat comfy chair in the back office. Alec and parker sprawled together on a plush light blue extension chair that looked as if it should only seat one. They looked cozy and happy together, his arms wrapped around her while she lay back on his chest.

I felt like a very silent third wheel intruding on their date night. They didn't seem to notice or care though. Which I envied just the slightest bit truthfully. I wanted to ask them how long they'd been together but I didn't want to break up their easy back and forth discussion of where to go on their next date. Parker, as I learned listening to them, liked jumping from high and (marginally) dangerous places. Alec did not. He threw out the traditional date ideas, dinner, movies, dancing. They decided on a paintball game before the weather turned too cold.

After a few minutes of pretending to fiddle with my phone a long, dark arm attached to dexterous fingers snatched it out of my hand. "Hey!"

Alec looked at my cell as if he were annoyed and offended by its very presence. He handled it like one might an ugly, oversized spider or cockroach hissing at him to be put down. Then he leveled his gaze on me. "Metro PCS? Am I not paying you enough? 'Cause I thought I was paying you enough."

Embarrassment flushed across my skin, heating my cheeks, neck and shoulders uncomfortably. I squirmed under his scrutiny, "I'm still paying off student loans."

Something flashed across his face and was gone before I could identify it. He handed me back my imitation BlackBerry. "How much do you have to pay back?"

Mentally I calculated, "About ten thousand left."

Parker made a sound, "Ten thousand to go to school?"

"I wish. I originally took out about thirty three, but I've been paying it down for a while so, yeah. Around ten thousand left to go."

"Thirty thousand to go to college," Parker said.

I bobbed my head, "Not in addition to the grants I received."

She shook her head, "I'm glad I never went to school."

"I had three choices where I come from. One, go to college and get out the tiny ass town I lived in. Two, stay home and take over my family's ranch some day, or three stay home and be a wife and mother while my husband went off to fight in Iraq. Me, I'm not exactly the picket fence type so I went to school. I think my grandparents want me to come home and learn the ropes for the ranch but…" they were staring at me as if I had two heads. I blinked at them, "What?"

"Wife," Parker echoed, "mother?"

I cocked my head, "I married my high school sweetheart. Eliot didn't tell you?" I just assumed they'd pretty much grilled him for information about our relationship the minute after I left two Fridays ago. I realized right then that I should have known better. Eliot, stoic as ever, probably didn't open his mouth about me unless he absolutely had to.

"How long have you known Eliot?" Alec asked after a moment of wary silence.

I tried to remember the first time Andy brought Eliot home with him, "Um…I think since the year 2001 but don't quote me on it. He was in my husband's squadron." I caught Parker looking at my bare ring finger. I rubbed the spot immediately. The tan line faded a long time ago. A very long time ago. "Andy died several years ago."

"I'm sorry," Parker and Alec told me at the same time.

I gave them a smile but it felt sad, "It's okay, life happens. Shit happens." I needed a subject change. As long as it had been since Andy's death it was still a sore spot for me. "So who are we waiting on? I thought we were going to watch a movie."

Alec let go of Parker and stood up, "I'm gonna go check on the pizza. Eliot's takin' forever."

My heart beat kicked up like racing horses. Damn it. I should have known. Why hadn't I thought of that? I wondered how they'd take it if I bailed.

Parker must have noticed. "You make him nervous." Her eyes were steady, no smile but a hint of something I couldn't quite place behind her gaze. "Eliot." She elaborated, "You make him nervous. He burned himself one night when Sophie started asking questions about you. I've never seen Eliot get nervous like that. I've never seen him burn anything, especially not himself when he's cooking. I like you. You should stay."

Before I could reply, before I could even fathom thinking about what she said Alec called into the room, "If ya'll want food then you're gonna have to help cuz Eliot cooked enough for an army again."

"Damn it, Hardison," a familiar gravelly voice ground out, "you said Nate and Sophie were gonna be here."

"Hey," Alec said as the two worked their way into the room, "it's not my fault they decided not to show."

Parker of course took one of the large pizza trays that Alec had been precariously balancing. Which left me to take something from Eliot's full arms. His eyes settled on me for a moment, hard and annoyed. I pressed my lips into a firm line and took the proffered bowl of popcorn. I pretended not to notice the bruises on his skin. I set the bowl on the large desk/console and went back for the bowl of tortilla chips. Once everything was out it looked like a feast that four people could not possibly finish. Two pizzas, one chicken, broccoli and cheese the other pepperoni, salami and cheese. A large bowl of tortilla chips with two different kinds of salsa and a small bowl of guacamole. Two bowls of popcorn, one butter (ick) and the other I didn't know because it was on the side opposite me.

"That's a lot of food," I said.

Alec and Parker started digging in. They grabbed paper plates and napkins. I stood there awkwardly because I'd eaten dinner already on my break. I was debating the merits of tortilla chips and guacamole when the secondary bowl of popcorn appeared in front of me.

Eliot held it out to me, his voice low, almost soft, "White cheddar."

Gratefully I took the popcorn, "Thank you." Of course he would remember.

If Alec or Parker noticed the interaction I didn't know. Alec demanded we all sit down so he could start the damn movie. Eliot took a seat on the barstools at the desk. The lights went down and the movie started.

As it turned out that room up the grated metal stairs was actually a converted loft bedroom where Alec deposited the mostly asleep Parker. I couldn't blame her, even though I loved the movie my brain was running on fumes by the time it was over. By now I'd be walking home and looking forward to sleep. Instead I was gather up paper plates and crumpled greasy napkins. Nearby Eliot began the cleanup process on all of the food he'd made. Thankfully the couple of people on staff had come in periodically to steal some snacks here and there. I didn't expect the four of us to put much of a dent in what he made.

Then again I hadn't realized how much food Parker and Alec could put away.

The silence between Eliot and myself felt like a tightly wound chord waiting for one more twist to snap it. It felt wrong to ignore his presence while we cleaned but it also felt wrong to just start talking to him after avoiding him for two weeks straight. I forgot what being around him felt like but I began to remember as we moved around each other. I didn't know what to say to him so I searched for little things to do. After I dumped the dirty plates and napkins I found the dustpan and the broom to sweep up. Then I wiped down the desk once he cleared away the food.

Alec, after taking a very long time upstairs, finally came back down. I looked up in time to catch him readjusting the collar on his shirt to cover the reddened skin of his neck. Funny. I hadn't pictured Parker as a biter.

"You've got a love bite on your neck," I pointed out if only to make him squirm. I considered it payback for not telling me that I would have to hang out with Eliot almost all night.

"Um, yeah…" Alec stuttered, "Well, you know…um…" he flushed, embarrassed.

I laughed, "Oh yea. I _know_."

The dirty glare he tried to point my way failed to hit with that goofy, boyish grin plastered on his face. "We'll finish cleaning up. Lemme walk you to your car."

I shook my head and tossed the paper towel I'd been using to clean, "Don't have one."

A deep crease formed between Alec's eyebrows, "Did you take the bus here?"

"I walked. I always walk."

The mild shock on his face, "You've been walking home every night?"

I waved off his worry, "I live like eight blocks from here, I'll be fine."

"Yeah, that's what they say in horror movies right before somebody **dies**."

"Actually," I corrected because if he wanted to play that card I could play too. "What they say is 'I'll be right back' then they get axed murdered or stabbed to death by a lunatic with a serious butcher knife." My attempt to lighten the mood with morbid humor clearly didn't work.

"You could get mugged, or worse."

"I've been here almost four months and I've yet to be mugged Alec. I will be fine. Besides, I used to live in Brooklyn. Getting mugged isn't news to me."

"Eliot," Alec called out, "did you know Faith's been walking home at night, _every night_," he said with a pointed look in my direction, "alone?"

Honestly I thought Eliot had still been washing dishes. I didn't even notice him come back into the room. I also really did not want to hear what he had to say on the subject because I already knew what it would be. The man's faults added up to a handful of things, including being a gentleman when it came to doing right by women. If he'd been anyone else I wouldn't have minded. I might not even have cared, but it was Eliot and that was a big problem for me. The one person I sincerely did not want knowing that I walked home because all of his good southern boy breeding would lead him to do one thing.

"I'll drive Faye home, Hardison."

And there it was. I knew it and he'd gone and done it. I gritted my teeth until my jaw ached. My temper boiled and the wild thud of my heartbeat roared in my ears. I clenched my fists and said as politely as I could, "No. You. Will. Not." I didn't bother looking at him or Alec after that. I was too pissed off with their chivalry act. "I'm walking. Deal with it or fire my ass. I'm out."

I beat a hasty retreat to my office, snagged my jacket from the office chair and my keys from the desk drawer. My temper still seethed. He called me Faye. What gave him the right to call me by my nickname again? I slammed the drawer closed. I'd barely spoken to the bastard for two weeks and he was already calling me Faye!

I would have slammed my office door too but I was afraid the glass might crack. I locked up the front doors and chose to go out the side exit instead. At least it would take them a couple of minutes to realize which way I went. By the time they could follow I would have been at least a quarter of the way home. With that plan in mind I shrugged on my jacket and walked out into the alley by the dumpsters.

Eliot stood against the wall across from me, hands in his jacket pockets and blue eyes on me. I glowered at him. Seriously?

"I thought I made it abundantly clear that I do not want you to drive me home." I tried to keep my voice as even and civil as possible, but I hear the aggravated inflection in my tone. I hoped he heard it too.

"It's almost midnight Faye." His baby blues were far darker in the dimmer lights here in the alley. He stepped toward me, jaw tight, eyes never leaving mine. "I'm not gonna stand by while you walk home alone in the middle of the night no matter how you feel about it. Either you can let me walk with you or you can let me drive you."

My heart gave a deep, breath stealing throb. It hurt. How it could possibly still hurt this much after all the years between then and now? I didn't know but my chest ached just looking up at him. "You don't get to call me that anymore Eliot." The words were agony ripped from my lips.

His brow furrowed in confusion, "Call you what?"

"Faye," I felt like I'd shouted his nickname for me even though my voice couldn't have been much louder than a sigh. "You don't get to call me Faye anymore. You lost that privilege."

For a beat I thought he might say something. His lips parted slightly and he looked as if there were words on his tongue that wanted to be spilled. He didn't though. He didn't say one damn thing. His eyes were hot and hard and dark with things I didn't want to think about.

I started walking. After a moment so did he. The silent tension between us seemed even worse than before. I could see the tightly wound anger in him by the set of his shoulders and the hard clench of his jaw. His eyes were obscured by the fall of his hair.

A purely masochistic part of me longed to reach out and tuck the strands behind his ear. I wondered what he'd do if I did. I wondered what might happen between if I touched him. I wanted to know and yet I did not want to find out. I feared the pain he'd cause in me again. I did not want to open myself up to him.

Around three blocks from the apartment building I lived in I stopped walking. Not because of Eliot, but because while I'd been thinking I could have sworn I heard a soft crying. An animal's cry, not human. Straining my ears I listened for it again.

"What's wrong?" Eliot asked casting his gaze around the empty streets.

I shushed him, "Do you hear that?'

"Hear what Fay-," his lips pressed tight, "Faith."

A very soft, frightened mewling sounded again not more than a few feet from us. I looked around and around in the dark, spinning to pinpoint the creature. My grandmother swore on her grave that I'd save the devil if he was in trouble, but I disagree. I would save a child or a hurt animal, not the devil. Unless, of course he were disguised as an animal or child, but that was neither here nor there.

I dropped to the ground peering into the areas barely lit by the streetlights. The pavement scratched up my jeans and my Payless Engineer boots. "It's a cat," I said to him, "can't you hear it?"

"You and your strays," he grumbled but he crouched down too.

I snorted, "I took you in didn't I?"

"Strays," he said again, this time sounding much more reverent.

My heart jumped into my throat.

I don't know where he got it or where he might have been hiding it but he pulled out one of those small pocket keychain flashlights. The kind that glows bright but burns out fast. Eliot shined it into the darker areas around us.

Behind a thickly growing patch of dandelions sat a little white kitten. I do mean little. I picked her up carefully. Her malnourished bones stuck out, her coat felt grimy and stiff from fleas and dirt. Her eyes were closed with conjunctivitis. I could feel her tiny heartbeat wildly pounding against my palm while she mewled plaintively at us. I lost my heart in seconds.

"Hi sweetie," I murmured to her, gently rubbing her head, ears and back. Her skin sagged a little in places. "She's so tiny. Who the hell would just dump a kitten this young like that?"

Eliot frowned, still kneeling with me on the pavement. "She needs a vet."

"It's after midnight, nobody is going to be open until morning. If I can get her to drink some water, I think she's old enough for heavy cream and solid food. I've got some chicken I can cut really small." I held her out to him, "Your body temperature is higher than mine, she can't regulate hers yet. It's too cold for her out here."

Septembers in New York were muggy at best. Septembers here in Oregon were cooler at night and nicer in the day. I wouldn't risk the kitten getting any worse than she was already. Eliot didn't argue, he took her from me carefully. Her tiny body didn't even fully take up his hand.

"She could die in the night. She's underweight, malnourished and dehydrated. Even if she doesn't die the pink eye could leave her blind."

I shook my head vehemently, "No, she won't. She'll be fine." I knew she would be. I just knew. "She's going to be perfect."

He sighed heavily, "Faye…"

I gave him a sharp, reproachful gaze, "I've raised more animals in my life time than you ever have."

"I just don't want you getting your hopes up." His voice was soft, careful and almost caring. "I know how you get. I remember you buying thirty dollars worth of cat food for the strays near your building. You spent almost a thousand getting them all fixed. You _cried_," his eyes on mine in the dark were the bluest I'd ever seen his eyes go. Clear and honest and so very blue, "when one or two went missing." His thumb rubbed down the kitten's back ever so carefully. "It'll break your heart if she dies."

"Why do you care what happens to my heart Eliot?"

He pinned me with those eye until I didn't think I could breathe and then he said, "You saying I shouldn't?"

My insides twisted up into a knot of confusion and fear that solidified in my throat. I swallowed hard and blinked past hopeful tears. "We should get back to my place. She'll be better off there than here on the street." I started walking again but all I could think was:

What the fuck?

* * *

I named her Annie, after my mother. Growing up in a house full to the brim with strays that decided to stay and pound mutts my grandparents couldn't say no to, I always wanted to name one after my mom. My grandparents wouldn't have it though. I think because it upset them too much. I never pressed my luck with it. I thought about how to tell my grandparents that I adopted a cat and named her after my mother.

I didn't imagine the conversation going over too well with either of them.

Those were the thoughts that crossed my mind as we sat in the waiting room at the veterinary clinic. We meaning Eliot, Annie and myself. Eliot and I didn't talk. I didn't want him to take me to the vet and I certainly did not want him to stay. He did though. He drove me there in his shiny red-orange Challenger with black racing stripes. I almost asked him what he was compensating for but I bit my tongue. I wouldn't have even taken the ride from him but I couldn't walk with Annie in hand. I couldn't ride the bus with her either. Begrudgingly I took him up on his offer to drive me. I just didn't expect him to stay and wait with me.

For the umpteenth time I told him, "Really Eliot, I can do this alone. You should go. I don't want you to waste your day off chauffeuring me to and from the vet."

He reached into my lap and rubbed the pad of his thumb under Annie's chin. The little traitor mewed at the attention, extending her neck for him to get the good spots too. "How are you gonna get home without me?"

Undermined by my lack in monetary funds once again, damn it. I settled for staying grumpy and readjusting the towel that I wrapped around Annie to keep her warm. I cleaned her last night, wiping her eyes with chamomile tea to break up the puss and crusted bacteria. I spent an hour combing her and picking off fleas with a tweezers until her coat felt smoother and softer. I gave her mashed food with butter and water to help replace the nutrients she'd no doubt lost while she was abandoned. When we, Annie and I, went to bed last night the little creature curled up on my chest under the blankets and fell asleep purring contentedly.

The last thing I expected this morning was to have Eliot at my front door telling me he made Annie an appointment at the vet. Not that he called her by her name. He called her "the cat" or "your cat."

The classic rock station playing softly overhead stopped Bon Jovi and started up Guns and Roses singing November Rain. I hummed along trying to occupy myself while Eliot did what Eliot did best. He held flirty conversation with the handful of women sending him appreciative, appraising glances. He flicked hair out of his eyes in a move so practiced it was effortless. Two of his fingers tapped on the counter while he playfully smiled at the blonde in scrubs behind the desk. When the man shrugged off his leather jacket, thereby putting well toned muscles on display the dynamic of the room shifted from flirty and interested to women gone hunting. Both of the female veterinary technicians slipped him their numbers. So help me they batted their eyelashes at him.

Finally they called my name and Annie's. I caught a quizzical, fleeting look from Eliot.

"Annie?" He said after we were in a room waiting for the vet to come in.

"Yes," I held the little one close to my chest to keep the cool air in the room from making her cold. "Why?"

He went very, very quiet for several moments. Then he gingerly took Annie from me and rubbed down her back. The hard, thoughtful expression on his face left me feeling nervous. "Why did you pick the name Annie?"

I couldn't explain the thickening emotion in my throat, "It was my mother's name."

He didn't say anything again.

"Eliot," my voice a little hoarse, "what's wrong with the name?"

He shook his head, "Nothing wrong with it Faye. I like it. It was my mom's name too."

How had I not known that? How? I spent years with him as a good friend before we became lovers. This man shared my bed. Eliot knew what my body felt like from the _inside_. How the hell had I not known that his mother's name was also my mother's name?

"I didn't know that," I licked my lips but my mouth had gone dry as a bone, "you never told me that."

Without looking at me, "I know." He went quiet again as did I. The tension coiled between us almost painfully. "Where is your mother now?"

My heart skipped a beat, "She died during labor. I never knew her."

He handed me back Annie without a word. Our fingers brushed in the exchange. The electric shock, pleasant as it was powerful, shot up my arm and stole my breath away. Almost imperceptibly I heard him let out a sharp hiss of air. Any further interaction was lost when the vet came into the room.

Only the blonde was left at the reception desk once we came out of the exam room. While my mind was still on Eliot's reaction and what the vet had gone over about Annie's overall health – she could have died if we hadn't picked her up – I completely missed Eliot taking out his credit card until it was too late. What alerted me to his sneaky ways wasn't the beep of the machine or the woman telling him how much it would be for the visit. What caught my attention, I'm ashamed to say, was her flirting. She handed him back his card with a brush of her fingers on his.

"I thought black Amex cards were a myth," the woman behind the counter told him. "It's so nice of you to pay for all of this for your sister." She caressed his hand again when she gave over a pen for him to sign the credit slip.

Of all the things that could have made me snap it should not have been that. Such a simple, non-threatening act without any detectable catty undertones, but it irked me beyond all comprehension. My reaction I later chalked up to mental stress and a momentary lapse in sanity.

And jealousy of course.

"You would think," I said to no one in general, but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear me, "that someone who must have had some medical training could differentiate the difference between people with absolutely no biological relation and those that do." I patted Eliot's arm, "Irish with Native American ancestry." I motioned to myself, "English, French and German heritage. We're no more related to each other than to you are to your peroxide bottle."

Outside I beat myself up mentally. What the fuck had I just done? I banged my forehead against the hood of his car a couple of times to knock some sense into my brain. Why did I just do that? What possessed me? Did I just have a complete mental breakdown or did I simply suffer a quick, embarrassing lapse in rational thought? While I let out a string of colorful cuss words that might have made Dryer pink in the ears, I missed Eliot coming out of the clinic behind me.

He looked amused as hell when I finally worked up the courage to turn toward him. He tossed a couple white paper slips into the garbage can nearby.

"Hey," I told him, "don't throw out the receipts. I have to pay you back."

Eliot stopped a mere handful of steps from me, one hand in his jacket pocket, the other reached out and rubbed Annie's furry head. "They weren't the receipts Faye."

I squinted at him in the sunlight, "They weren't?"

"No," but he didn't elaborate any further. He opened the passenger side door for me and silently I got in.

My mouth had gotten me into enough trouble anyway.

We rode back to my apartment in relative, but not companionable silence. I rubbed Annie nervously, not that she noticed. The kitten slept quietly on my thigh, little paw extended so that she took up more space. I wondered what she dreamed about to be so peaceful. Of late my dreams were about the pub and work and of course, Eliot. Last night especially. In my dreams I forgave him when he told me he still loved me. I woke up to a kitten cleaning my face with a rough little tongue and mewling for food.

We bypassed my apartment building in a blur of speed.

"You missed it," but I was fairly sure he knew.

He tapped the GPS, "PetSmart is this way. Unless you want to walk home with bags full of cat stuff."

In my lap Annie yawned, stretching little paws. I couldn't answer. I didn't have an answer. I looked out the passenger side window to watch the world slide by. "Why are you doing this Eliot?"

He breathed out heavily, almost a deep sigh. "Why are you marking territory that isn't yours Faye?"

I turned toward him, "Excuse me?"

"What you did at the clinic," his fingers were almost bloodless they gripped the steering wheel so tightly, "what you said to her."

My eyes rolled heavenward, "I didn't hear you arguing."

"Not arguing Faye. Bar none that was the meanest thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth." Not true. What I said the say he broke up with me, those were the most horrible things I could say to any human being.

He glanced at me before returning his eyes to the road, "When did you get mean? I don't remember you treating other people like that."

"Oh fuck you! Like you have any right to talk. You lied to me so you could rip my heart out and shatter it into so many pieces I needed a dustpan to pick them all up!"

His jaw clenched hard, harder than it had last night. An almost threatening sound started up at the back of his throat. The wheels of the Challenger squealed as he pulled over to an empty space. Blue eyes burning so bright, like twin stars, narrowed on me. "I'm not doing this here. We're not doing this Faye."

I'll admit it, this time I really meant to snap. Or vent as it were.

"Then when should we do it? When Eliot? Give me a good god damn time to have this out with you because so help me god this is all that's been on my mind since Alec brought me into that room. I saw you and all I wanted to do was punch you so hard you would have seen stars. I wanted to ask you what I did to deserve it. I wanted to know why you would lie to me like that. I wanted to know why you didn't call me back that morning after you were so turned on the night before. I wanted to know why you didn't answer my phone calls, my text messages and then you changed your number. I spent months, **months** Eliot trying to figure out what happened to you.

"Then there you were, in my apartment and holy god, I was so happy to see you. I thought my heart would burst with relief and love. I _loved_ you, you stupid son of a bitch. I loved you so much it fucking hurt."

I didn't realize I was crying until my vision blurred, "And you lied to get rid of me. You could have told me that you didn't want to be with me anymore. You should have just said it instead of trying to hurt me with a lie about Dryer. You should have just-"

"They were going to kill you!" His voice strained when he shouted it. His chest heaved in deep breaths. "They were going to kill you Faye," it was a hoarse confession that struck so close to my heart I thought I might bleed with the truth of it. "Moreau had his men following me, us when I was with you. There was a job…" his voice roughened with self loathing, "there was a job that I couldn't…wouldn't do. They had pictures of you. In your apartment, at work, shopping. A few of us together…" He breathed out heavily, "After I did what Moreau wanted I tried to get out. It took me a while but I got out."

I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat, "Why didn't you call me? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You don't want to know what I did Faye," the emotion that entered his gaze floored me.

"You killed someone," I'd always known he killed people. I'd always known that but saying it out loud was much different with so many years between then and now. I didn't want to ask but I did, maybe because I'm secretly a masochist or maybe I wanted to know the price Eliot paid for my life. I wanted to know the price another person, other people paid for my life. "They didn't deserve it, did they?"

"No," he told me, his voice hard.

"Is that why you ended us?" My chest heaved as I tried to stave off the need to sob. "Because you killed to keep me safe?"

"Knowing you were alive and hating me was better than finding out some psychopath killed you to get to me." His eyes were no longer stars. They were the dark desolate blue of an ocean before the storm. "It was better than having someone use you to get to me like that."

My hands were shaking when I reached out to touch him. I pressed my fingers gently against his cheek to make sure this was real. Solid, and a little rough, but absolutely completely Eliot. His hand came up, his thumb stroking my jaw, blunt fingers just barely touching my neck. I pressed my other hand against his heart. It beat quickly, but not the jack hammer that threatened to find a way out of my chest if I didn't do something.

So I did. I grabbed him at the same time he pulled me forward. Our mouths met in a violent clash of lips, teeth and tongue. I gripped at his hair in handfuls to make sure he stayed exactly where I needed him to be. Small need based groans escaped his lips for the briefest moments between our kisses. He had the softest lips, and he sealed them over mine again and again until I was dizzy from the need to breathe and yet I kept kissing him. I kept kissing him and he kept kissing me, his breath coming in fierce panting breaths.

Annie waking up was what stopped us. She let loose a plaintive yowl at us. I didn't think we hurt her, but the jostling of our movements must have scared her awake. She looked angry, her little claws pierced the material of my jeans but didn't quiet catch my skin.

Eliot breathed out, fingers dragging through his long hair. "I didn't want to have that conversation in the car Faye."

I leaned over and planted a kiss against the stubble on his cheek. "We can finish later."

He chuckled, a low masculine sound that had my insides quaking with anticipation. "The conversation or the kiss?"

I nipped his ear, "Both." I drew away before he could take my proximity as an invitation. "Now get us to PetSmart."

He growled but this time it was a much more playful sound. "I thought you didn't want me chauffeuring you around today."

I paused, watching him with newly opened eyes. "You're earning your way back into my good graces. We can start with you driving Annie and me to PetSmart and then you can cook us lunch."

Eliot, after checking his mirrors and the blind spot pulled out into traffic. "You know that means grocery shopping. Your refrigerator is probably full of the pub's leftovers and Chinese food."

I pressed my lips together to hide the smile that threatened. "Maybe I cook now. Did you think of that? I did have some guy I used to date harassing me to cook instead of buying takeout."

His eyes drifted to me for a moment, "I'm supposed to believe that?"

"You could have a little faith."

Too late I realized what I said, a semi-invitational proposition that might very well have been a Freudian slip.

His fingers curled tighter on the steering wheel almost to the point I imagined the leather squeaking from the pressure. After several extensive, agonizing moments, "I have faith in you, Faye."

"This doesn't mean we're back together," I told him slowly, my voice soft despite the desire to put meaning behind what I said. I wanted so badly to forgive him but the shadow of the pain he caused me still lived. It ached with raw throbs in the place he used to have in my damaged heart. I rubbed Annie gently and she purred contentedly. "And it doesn't mean I forgive you."

"I know Faye," he told me, his eyes on the road, "believe me, I know."

What do you say to someone that admits having killed to keep you alive?

I didn't know what to say to him, not while we shopped in PetSmart or when we hit the grocery store later. Not while he made us grilled turkey and cheese sandwiches that were so good I moaned a little when I chewed. What could I say? What could anyone say to something like that? There weren't words. My heart broke silently for people I didn't know. People who paid the price for my life. For this moment. For every breath I took.

Eliot only just put the last dish into the sink when I wrapped my arms around him. I placed my forehead against his back, eyes closed and didn't say anything.

We're together but not together in a way. I told him I would not forgive him for what he'd done and I meant it. Being near him reminded me of the raw ache he very presence created. I wondered exactly how long it would take to forgive him. I wondered how much he missed me and if he missed me the way I missed him. I doubted I'd ever really know but I could get over that. As long as he didn't do it again.

He let me hold him, his hands over mine for what seemed like forever and then he moved us. Well, me from the kitchen floor to the kitchen counter. I felt the handful of inches between the back of my head and the cabinets next to the fridge. His hands were on my hips, holding me in place with blue eyes searching mine for some answer to a question that he hadn't asked aloud yet. I leaned forward and pressed my mouth against his in a careful, slow kiss that threatened to burn us both if we weren't careful.

His hands curled tight against the material of my jeans, and I wondered how hard it was for him to control himself with me. With someone he already knew the most intimate parts of. I pressed him, my tongue flicking his lower lip until a sound rumbled its way out of his chest. His fingers dug into my hair, against the nape of my neck and pinned me there. Eliot's mouth moved with mine like he couldn't get enough. As if he'd take everything he could get from me and still not be satisfied. It's a heady feeling knowing someone like him, someone powerful, dangerous, and oh so wonderful wanted me more than he wanted anyone else.

When he dragged my hips forward I felt him hard and thick in his jeans pressed right up against the most sensitive parts of me. Half of me wanted to slip between us and pull at the button of his fly. The other half warned me not to. While he kissed me, his tongue dueling with mine, soft groans coming from his throat as we kissed, I wanted to entertain the first idea. I wanted to pull at his belt, the button at the top of his fly and the zipper beneath. I would have too if that second part of me hadn't kept my head on straight. I hated the logical, rational part of me right then and there but I listened to it.

Moving my hands from his neck and hair I planted them on his shoulders and pushed, "No."

I felt the resistance in his muscles for a half second before it gave way and Eliot used all of his self control to step back. His eyes, blue eyes that I could have fallen into, remained dark and heavy lidded, his breathing harsh and hard, tongue darting out to taste what was left of me on his lips. "Faye," he growled and the sound was hungry, dangerous.

I wanted to give in. Drag my t-shirt off and drop it on the floor and let him do what he wanted. What we both wanted. I shook my head more to clear the image of him taking me right there in the kitchen rather than to signal no but it got my point across anyway.

"No," my voice remained strong and adamant. "No Eliot. We can't." My lower bits – meaning almost everything below the neck at the moment – the parts that were wet and tight didn't really agree with me. They were shouting yes in the worst way. Those parts of me knew I was lying through my teeth. We most certainly could and given the chance, we would.

I bowed my head, hunched my shoulders and told my body and libido to shut the hell up. "We can't," I said while he dragged a hand through his hair. "Not because I don't want to but because you broke me. You haven't earned the invitation back into my bed. I haven't forgiven you yet." I swallowed past the lump forming in my throat. "We're not in love. I don't sleep with people I don't love. When," I wanted to call it naiveté that lead me to think he'd put up with courting me again. "If," I corrected, "_if_ we fall back in love then we can. Not before. I'm not easy. I know the first time I gave myself to you morning noon and night but I'm not easy. I'm not and you're going to have to work to get me back."

There. I said it. I studied the scuff marks on my navy blue converse. I didn't want to look at him. Mostly because if he wanted to he could have walked out right there. He could have said fuck this and left. He'd already had me so why should he fight to have me again when any other woman would willingly drop her panties, lift her skirt and invite him to stay a while. I chewed my lower lip in apprehension and waited for the blow to come. I kept telling myself in that quiet handful of minutes that it would be easier this way. I could move on once I knew he didn't want to fight for me.

He breathed in deeply, "Do you want to go to dinner with me tonight?"

That was not what I was expecting. I blinked at him, "What?"

Eliot scowled at me, but it wasn't annoyance or anger. He just hated repeating himself. "I'm asking you on a date Faye. The last time we didn't date, we were friends and then we were sleeping together." His mouth pressed into a firm line, "Do you want to date me?"

My eyes misted with tears. "Of course I do."

His shoulders seemed to relax a little but I couldn't be sure if that was my imagination or if he'd actually been tense. "Are you free tonight?"

Was Mount Fuji tall? I nodded trying not to look and feel like such a doofus, "I'm spending it with you."

That made him smile at me, the kind of smile that made my inside warm. Eliot pulled me down from the counter and kissed me gently, carefully. "I missed you Faye," he murmured.

I closed my eyes and kissed him back, "I missed you too."

In the last six years I tried to move on. I went out with guys that were weird, men that were strange, possessive jerks that tried to keep me under their thumbs, and one guy I'm pretty sure was possessed by something not quite human. I went out with nice guys that turned out to be jerks and jerks that had the balls to be upfront with me before I got in the car. My dating battle scars were numerous. I could tell first date horror stories that could curl someone's hair given half the chance.

Dating Eliot though wasn't like dating anyone else.

He opened doors for me. His hand never strayed from the base of my spine while we were out. He wrapped his jacket around me when I got cold. He pulled out my chair for me when I sat. This, dating him, I considered a whole new experience in my dating experience. Old fashioned words like 'courting' and 'gallantry' filled my head and chest with nervous butterflies.

My insides went warm and fuzzy with him.

The first time around there hadn't been much going out in our relationship. We tried to of course. We honestly did try but somehow the sexual tension, the chemistry between us was too explosive to be contained. We would go out and end up with a handful of orgasms between us somewhere just shy of public. After the first time, after I went down on him in Central Park, we learned to bring condoms along or pay the price. I still packed one in my clutch despite my most adamant vow that I would not under any circumstance drop my panties for him or lift my skirt.

I did wear a skirt on purpose though. Maybe because I wanted him to squirm or maybe because I wanted to catch him looking at my legs, which I did several times. Either way I wore a halter dress, black with large white polka-dots with my hair twisted up in artful way. Loose tendrils of hair scattered around my head which I curled and recurled until they bounced when tugged. I remembered the way he looked at me that night in the elevator. It seemed like a lifetime ago while I dressed for dinner. I remember the way he wrapped one of my curls around his finger, the way he touched my hair reverently as if he were afraid he'd hurt me.

I remembered his blue eyes so focused on me it scared and excited me at the same time.

The way they were focused on me at that moment actually. I blushed, looking down at the menu in my hands where everything was at least thirty dollars or more a plate. "You're staring at me."

One corner of his mouth turned upward, "If you didn't want me to stare at you sweetheart then you shouldn't have dressed up. You're the sexiest woman in the room and you're with me. I can't stop lookin' at you and I don't want to."

My whole body threatened to ignite into flames right there. I closed my eyes and told my lungs to breathe. I sipped the sparkling water, lemons, limes and a high price tag. "Eliot," I said blushing from head to toe.

He smiled at me, the corners of his eyes wrinkling, "I like watching you blush Faye."

Flustered and warm I kept trying not to look at him but holy god that was all I wanted to do. I pinpointed my gaze on the menu and told my body to calm the fuck down. I kept telling myself that there would be no point in getting all worked up. That I'd known Eliot for years. I'd already slept with him. All of this was just supposed to be getting to know each other again. None of it worked though. I still felt like a stumbling, bumbling teenage girl on her first date with a guy so far out of her league he shouldn't have even looked twice.

"This place is too expensive," I told him once I decided on the cheapest meal that didn't constitute an appetizer.

A furrow formed between his eyebrows, "You don't like it?"

"Oh I like it," I sipped the overpriced seltzer, "it's so expensive though. We both work at the same place. I mean I know you have another job-" I stopped talking because the way he looked at me right at that moment said I really had no idea what I was talking about.

"I've got money Faye," he didn't elaborate.

So friken far out of my league.

The waitress smiled a little too long at Eliot for my liking. Her fingers brushed his when she took the menu from him. I couldn't blame her though. Not entirely. Gorgeous, beautiful people are supposed to be with other gorgeous, beautiful people. I think that is some sort of law in the universe. She, of course, was absolutely stunning. Her long red hair looked like fire in the low lights from the candles and overhanging lamps. Her skin looked perfectly pale and translucent. Her eyes even sparkled. I wanted to hate her but I couldn't fathom up the nerve.

I completely would have understood if she slipped him her number and he kept it.

When I looked at Eliot though, his eyes were only for me.

My heart pounded out an erratic beat when he took my hand in his on top of the table, and laced our fingers together. I stuttered out my order blushing profusely from my scalp to my toes. "Oh, god," I bowed my head and shook it. "You realize she was flirting with you and you just completely blew her off."

"The woman I want," he said, his fingers tightening around mine, "is right here."

My brain turned to mush, my words decimated into dust that dried my throat and I was at a complete and utter loss. I think I may have managed some kind of monosyllabic 'guh' sound that had him grinning at me with this look in his eyes that said he liked making me wibbly-wobbly. That was also the moment I realized falling back in love with Eliot wouldn't be difficult. Because, despite all of my best efforts over the past several years I was pretty much still in love with him to begin with.

I took a very large gulp of the expensive soda water.

Good thing I packed a condom.

But he didn't touch me when we returned to my apartment building. I mean, he did, but he only put his hand on my hip and asked, actually asked if he could kiss me goodnight. Our kisses still burned like coals though. Red hot and ready to go. I felt his hand fist in the material of my dress, the connection between us flared up and threatened to consume us both in the flames. I grabbed at his arms while his mouth moved over mine, tongue flicking against my lips because he wanted in and I was more than happy to grant him entrance. This time he pulled away.

Eliot took two decently sized steps back from me, "You should go inside Faye."

I dragged in a deep breath of air while I tried to understand why I should leave him out there alone when my apartment would be warm and cozy, "Do you want to come in?"

Eliot groaned low in his throat, "Jesus, Faye." The valiant job he was doing at behaving all night seemed to be coming to an end and I couldn't be sure if it upset me or excited me. "I am trying to do this the right way," his voice sounded hard, his teeth clenched but the longing in his tone made me want to push. "Go inside, lock the damn door and I will see you tomorrow."

My heart jack hammered in my chest, I licked my lips. His eyes refocused there. "Can," I asked tentatively, "can I have one more kiss?"

He nearly slammed me into the wall when he closed the distance between us again. My shoulders would be bruised the following day but it would all be worth it. It was worth it right at that moment. Making a man like him unravel right there in the hallway outside my apartment. He pinned me against the wall and kissed me hard, bruising hard to the point pleasure and pain began to mix and I didn't care if it hurt. I couldn't get enough of him. I didn't think I ever would. I tangled my fingers in his hair and whimpered wordless please against his mouth.

I miss you. I love you. Please.

I jerked away unsure if I actually said the words or if I only thought them. Or if he'd said them. I didn't think he did. My hands shook a little as I brushed fine curls away from my eyes. Eliot's chest heaved in air, expelling what I could only assume was CO2 and frustration laced with moderate amounts of desire and need.

Carefully he reached out and tucked a curl behind my ear, "I'm trying to do right by you Faye. This time I want to do this thing right."

"I know," my words were shaky, "I know. I want to, too."

He touched the bare skin of my shoulder gently, "See you tomorrow?"

"At work."

"Want a ride to work in the morning?"

Oh I wanted a ride, not necessarily in a car though. I wondered what he might do if I said those words aloud. I didn't though. I felt like I'd been pushing my luck all night and those words might just tip us over into the abyss. "Are you sure?" I asked. "I know you guys get in pretty early some days," meaning Nathan, Parker and usually Alec were there fairly early in the morning. As in before I managed to get myself a decent cup of tea and butter my toast in the morning early. No, I am not a morning person. I'm a night owl, stay up watching Doctor Who reruns, oh look Godzilla and Mothra are on let's just not sleep tonight, kind of person. I touched his shirt, button up with a wife beater underneath, "I'm not in until eleven."

He pulled me in for another kiss, a quick peck nothing more but even that had an electric ping to it. "Yeah Faye, I'm sure."

"Okay."

Eliot waited until I went into my apartment then he ordered me to flip the locks. I did of course, but afterward I wondered what he would have done if I hadn't. I leaned against the door, closed my eyes and breathed.

Christ, was I in trouble.

* * *

Last night he came home from Japan. Parker, Amy and I had been watching what Hardison dubbed the original zombie movie when they came back to the office. He threatened to take away my geek card for being bored. I didn't want to tell him that I wasn't bored so much as I was tired.

Tired from talking to cops, tired from helping Parker and Amy figure out how to keep a crime from happening and apparently, finding out that my boyfriend as well as his co-workers were modern day Robin Hoods…if Parker hadn't sworn me to secrecy I might have spilled the beans right then and there. Instead I went to get popcorn with Amy. Or, at least, I attempted to go get popcorn with Amy.

A muscled arm looped around my waist pulling me, from his perch on one of the stools, between his knees. His blue eyes darkened with familiarity and warmth, while the fingers of his other hand came to rest on my hip. "Hey," he murmured low and soft and just the slightest bit hungry.

I felt myself blushing in the near darkness. My hands found their way to his biceps, strong and solid. I peered at him in the white-blue glow from the flat screen on the wall, "Who was trying to keep you away from his granddaughter?" After being gone for nearly two weeks with minimal contact he deserved a little teasing. Just a little.

Alec snorted failing to cover the sound with a cough.

I knew, felt in my bones, that he would never cheat on me but a little curiosity had me wondering exactly how close to the granddaughter he'd gotten. I tilted my head to the side, tapped my fingers on his shoulders and raised my eyebrows in expectation. Eliot only pulled me closer giving me that trademark smile he reserved for those moments when he needed to flirt his way out of a sticky situation.

"I," he began then stopped, thinking better of whatever he might have said. He leaned forward, "we…" His brow creased. Apparently that wouldn't work either. Eliot leaned back a bit, completely serious, "Nothing happened."

I slid my arms around his neck, "Mmm, really?"

Something like relief washed over his posture, "Cross my heart sweetheart."

The endearment made me blush even more. I'd never get used to the idea of doing this in front of people, people he knew and worked with. People I knew and worked with. Gah. I rubbed one thumb across his scruffy jaw, leaning in to whisper in his ear, "Did I ever mention that you with a beard is a turn on for me?"

He nipped my earlobe before asking in a husky tone, "You want to stay for the movie?" Eliot's thumbs moved on my hips stroking up and down back and forth. Maddeningly slow and incredibly distracting.

My whole body thrummed in response. A thrill of excitement and desire went through me striking so deeply I thought my knees might turn to jelly. Incapable of coherent thought beyond wanting to leave, immediately, I shook my head. That seemed to be enough for him.

Eliot pressed a kiss against my lips, his beard scratching my skin in far too pleasant a manner. "We're gonna take off."

Parker straightened up in her seat, the same pullout couch she and Alec shared numerous times through various movie nights. "You're not going to stay?"

Eliot wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me against his side like he'd done it a million times before. "Sixteen hour flight, I'm tired," he said, "and I haven't seen my girlfriend in nearly two weeks."

The way he said it struck me, his nonchalance at referring to me as his girlfriend. I blinked up at him and it really hit me. Struck me dumb right then and there. My heart flooded with emotion so strong, so powerful and deep rooted I forgot about the desire he stirred up in me. I loved him. I still loved him and I probably always would. He would be it for me. My one and only and I was okay with that. As terrified of the idea as I should have been, that was how at peace I was with the knowledge. I loved Eliot.

I pushed up on the balls of my feet and planted a kiss on his cheek.

He looked down at me, brow drawn quizzically, "What's that for?"

I shrugged, taking his hand, "Let's go home."

We said our goodbyes to everyone. Sophie winked at me like she could read my mind. I don't know maybe she could. Maybe my emotions were written on my face plain as day. I didn't know and at the moment I didn't care. We got into his glossy orange Challenger, pulling out of the parking lot he headed for my place.

"Eliot," I said while he waited for a stop light to turn green.

"Hmm?" He murmured, watching the light over head.

"Take me to your place."

I may as well have slapped him if the shock on his face held any indication of his absolute astonishment with my request. I bit my lower lip while he searched my face for whatever he expected to find. A car behind us honked when the light turned green and the car didn't move. Eliot maintained enough presence of mind to wave the guy around us. Then he went back to staring at me for another handful of seconds.

"Faye," his voice roughened with all sorts of things that left my panties twisted and damp, "honey are you sure you want to…"

I grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him toward me while I leaned in. I pressed my mouth to his and stoked the fire between us a little more. Tonight I wanted those flames as hot as they could get. Hotter than the sun. Hot enough to burn the world. I wouldn't give him up for the world and everything in it and he needed to know that.

When I pulled back and he looked as if he'd love to climb into the back seat with me, "Eliot, don't make me ask again. Your place. Please."

He flicked on the left turn signal instead of going straight ahead toward mine. "What about Annie?"

"You bought her that expensive food and water dispenser. She knows what to do with it. I hear the damn thing go off all hours of the day." I shot him a sidelong glance as the scenery of streets I didn't really know passed the car. "Eliot are you stalling?"

He shook his head minutely, "No Faye, honey, I'm…" his mouth flattened out, "I'm tryin' to figure out what changed. You've been making me wait for almost three months. Don't get me wrong darlin', I don't mind waiting for you." He glanced at me then turned his attention back to the road, "I'm curious. Why now?"

I smiled at him; a secretive smile that I hoped would leave him wondering. "You're a smart man, you'll figure it out."

His place seemed a lot like my place with a handful of exceptions. One, he had rooftop access where he no doubt kept his personal garden of veggies and greens. Two, the interior of his apartment felt Spartan and decidedly male. Nothing overtly said 'professional thief' to me. Last, but certainly not least, Eliot's place reflected Eliot's personality. The set up of his personal dojo, complete with punching bag and Hanzo sword on display. There were shelves of books and magazines that reminded me of the difference between our personalities and preferences. Last but not least the kitchen that seemed well used and lived in despite him having been gone these last two weeks.

I shivered when his lips descended on the column of my neck. He pressed soft, just the other side of chaste kisses against the skin he found until it was almost too much. I leaned into him, eyes closed, my legs weak. "I'm literally walking into the wolf's den, aren't I?"

Blue eyes lit up with a playful, almost boyish light. He drew me in closer, hands on my hips, lips barely brushing against my neck, voice husky, and rough, "We can turn around right now and I'll take you home Faye."

I believe he would have. Leaning into his chest I kissed him hard, my fingers clutching at the nape of his neck while I eased the other hand under his shirts to rake my nails down his stomach. He growled against my mouth, every bit the hungry wolf ready to devour me at a moment's notice. A hard lump formed in his jeans pressing insistently against my belly. I moaned when he returned the favor, both of his hands pushed under the edge of my top to massage the base of my spine.

My knees felt like mushy jell-o.

He kissed me until I forgot everything except him. My fingers worked at the buttons to his shirt while he unbuckled my belt and then undid the zipper to my jeans. We both stopped long enough to litter the floor with unwanted clothing. I realized we were in the bathroom instead of the bedroom when the lights flickered on and they were far too bright.

I blinked up at him, my eyes adjusting to the white lights.

Eliot nipped my lower lip before I could ask why we were not making very good use of his bed right now. "I've been on a plane for sixteen hours."

And I'd been working all day. Good point. The shower looked to be one of those triangular jobs yet large enough for two people to stand comfortably together under the spray. My heart began to beat double time in my chest. Eliot wanted to shower with me. Oh my god. Nervous energy flooded my veins while he set the spray to a comfortable temperature. Then he stripped off his shirt and dropped his jeans. My mind flew out the bathroom door with one monosyllabic, _guh_.

Stripping down to nothing made me feel a little self conscious. I'm average at most since I quit taking Tae Kwon Do.

He still pulled me under the spray with him, smiling that smile men get when they know they're about to get laid. I couldn't fault him for it, I'd wear that smile too if I were him. Showering with someone else isn't like the romance novels or the erotica novels, the other person doesn't go out and buy your brand of shampoo or soap. There usually isn't any gentle massage, nor do you immediately start grabbing the walls and bracing for best sex of your life.

There's some awkward maneuvering, soap getting in places that might sting and a lot of laughing. And kissing. Slippery, sudsy, playful groping. Fingers getting tangled in wet hair while slick bodies pressed against one another. Moans of pleasure and sighs of anticipation mixed with the steady beat of the water on our skin and the low electric buzz of the ceiling lights.

I gripped his biceps crying out his name when he slipped blunt, dexterous fingers between my legs.

He groaned in my ear, his beard scraping my chin and neck where he kissed and bit me. "Jesus, Faye…" his thumb moved in lazy, maddening circles around that little bundle of nerves at the apex of my core. "You're so wet," one finger eased inside of me sliding back and forth in a slow, easy rhythm, "so wet for me."

I couldn't help the wanton sounds emitting from my throat, nor did I want to. Dragging his face to mine, pressing my lips to his and moaning out a litany of desire for him and only him. He added a second finger, then a third. His thumb moved faster and faster until my whole body felt like I would fall apart if he didn't just let me come. Fingers weren't enough, oh god they were so good but they weren't enough. I needed him. All of him. Just him. "Please," I begged clutching at his shoulder, his arms, my nails digging into flesh to stop the maddening need for him, "please Eliot, please."

His forehead fell on my mine, sticky with perspiration from the steam and heat of the shower. "Condoms are in the bedroom Faye," the roughness in his voice, the sheer desire so blatant and raw almost did me in right there. He moved his other hand from my hip to shut off the taps but I stopped him.

"No," I shook my head, "here, right here, right now."

Eliot's mind-numbingly talented fingers slowed down, his blue eyes burning into mine. "You still on the pill Faith?"

I nodded, unable to fathom a vocal response.

He growled out a sound somewhere between pain, pleasure and desire.

Then we fucked in a frantic, wild kind of way.

* * *

Morally I know I should find it strange to be okay with any of them stealing anything, but I don't. I don't find my reaction strange or see anything wrong with their team, Leverage Consulting. I saw the people they helped. Well, technically I didn't meet Sister Agnes, but I saw her picture and the pictures of the kids they would be helping. Nate let me sit in on the briefing because I asked if I could. I'd never seen any of them do their thing before. I thought it would be cool.

Holy crap was it. While I admit to being a geek, Alec is a bigger geek. I would crown him king of the geeks if it were up to me. I said so after the briefing finished. I got a fist bump from him and a brilliant grin in return.

Throughout the briefing I ran fingers through Eliot's much shorter hair, and he didn't stop me. No one seemed to notice or care. One of his hands rested on my thigh tapping out a slow, steady, repeating rhythm. He looked at me with those blue eyes afterwards, watching me for something. Maybe a reaction to the knowledge they'd be stealing millions from a Prime Minister oh so sinister.

I pecked his cheek, a little scruffy like always, "What?"

Blue eyes alight with warmth, he smiled at me. He pulled my seat closer to his, our jean clad knees bumping one another. "You good with this?"

Playing with a lock of hair against the base of his neck, "Why wouldn't I be?"

Behind me Parker clapped, a child like clap followed by an equally giddy laugh. Alec shot me that grin again when I looked back at them. Parker's gaze shifted to behind Eliot, "Can I do it now?"

Eliot's brows furrowed in uncertainty, "Do what?"

Parker slapped a piece of paper with my name on it down in front of me. An e-ticket. Portland to Washington D.C. I disengaged myself from my boyfriend to look at the innocuous piece of paper before me.

I think I might have looked a little confused.

"You've got vacation days coming," Alec informed me, "an' Eliot gets all grumpy when he doesn't see you for a few days."

Eliot glared at Alec, grinding out, "Hardison," between his teeth.

A delicate arm wound its way around Eliot's shoulders. "We've discussed it," Sophie patted his bicep, "and we all think you two deserve a little alone time."

Nate came to stand on the other side of the table, "Once the job is done take a couple of days, on us."

Technically the day we arrived in D.C. was our five month anniversary. My hands smelled unpleasantly like the perfumed towels they used in first class, and the Dramamine I took for the motion sickness left me feel sluggish. Alec, Parker and Eliot seemed to be in decent spirits. Alec chuckled, darkly with subtext I wasn't quite sure I wanted to understand from the back of the rental truck. I turned from the front seat to look at him in questioning.

"Castleman security," he elaborated, tapping the screen of his tablet, "round two."

In the driver's seat Eliot's mouth turned up at the corners, while Parker gave me this devious smirk that left me modestly frightened of her. I didn't think I wanted to know the story. No, strike that, I did want to know the story. Only to understand why they would enjoy sticking it to the same company again. Color me strange but I'm not usually one for revenge/vengeance unless I know they have it coming.

Then karma can have at them until she's satisified.

Once we checked in the trio of thieves went into a few quick rounds of review, strategize and alternate planning in the room Eliot and I were supposed to share. After I showered, I lay curled up on the bed watching them. Absolutely fascinated by the way they worked together. Like part of a machine, well oiled and almost seamlessly integrated. They knew each other's roles like their own. Alec would hack, Eliot would put down the opposition and Parker sealed the deal. I loved it. Watching them work was better than watching my favorite television show or playing my favorite video game. Better than watching Frank Herbert's _**Dune**_ for the umpteenth time though I would never admit it to anyone. Not even Eliot.

Eventually I fell asleep. I couldn't say when Eliot came to bed. I only had the vaguest recollection of him wrapping an arm around me at some point in the quiet dark. His warm breath on my neck as he pressed a kiss behind one of my ears and told me to go back to sleep.

The clock on my read 6:45 am when I finally woke up. Eliot, of course, was gone. No doubt beating down a few Catstleman Security guards by now. Or he'd be crawling through the vents with Parker, because Alec refused. Dust mites and pincers. Either way there would be no point in worrying unless they didn't show up at 8:30. I had explicit instructions to give them until nine fifteen and then I was to call Nate and/or Sophie.

I suppose in a way, I am an early warning system instead of a fourth wheel.

My granddad always told me, never waste time lest time waste you. I spent time curling my hair and dabbing on a bit of makeup, I'm not much for it but Sophie has been attempting to teach me when I let her. The "Continental" breakfast downstairs in the hotel failed miserably. The Starbucks I found via GPS – Alec wouldn't let me keep my old phone, he forced an Android on me as soon as humanly possible – and bought the largest Chai tea they had and a blueberry scone.

By 8:15 I was plopped down in the designated meeting spot reading the last Sookie Stackhouse novel with big ol' tears in my eyes. Eliot bought me a Kindle Fire on our four month anniversary. Only because I wouldn't take the black Amex card he tried to give me originally. Silly man, as if I wanted to spend his millions. He wouldn't tell me how to change the account over to my own Amazon account though. And somehow he got Alec to lock it so that I wouldn't be able to switch it over. I suppose that was his way of trying to win the argument on who pays for what.

I saw the trio entering the square a little before 8:22. I had only just finished the last page, and the sappy part of me took into account the way Alec and Parker walked along side by side as if they'd always been that way. I caught up with them, pecking Eliot's cheek with a kiss and tugging gently on his shirt. The shirt I got him before we left, because it reminded me of him. Red with Japanese Kanji on the front. It said wolf which amused him to no end.

"Nice shirt cowboy," I murmured against his skin.

He gave me that crooked smile of his and pinched my bottom.

Alec talked to someone on the phone. Parker opened the small, flat…whoa…

"Are those diamonds?" I felt like I shouted it but my voice sounded more like a faint whisper. I looked at each of them in turn, "Jesus… I've never seen anything that big except on television. Holy crap."

Their smiles said they thought my reaction funny.

I scowled, "Hey, the chips on my engagement ring were the size of needle heads okay? Stop judging the poor girl."

Alec gave Eliot a look then that I couldn't quite read. Eliot shook his head in response. He took the sparking bounty they procured (Purloined? Requisitioned? Commandeered? Pilfered?), boxed it, and dropped it unceremoniously into the mailbox. It felt strangely anti-climactic after all the prep work they went through the night before.

Eliot and I sacrificed hotel sex and joining the mile high club for a box dropped in the mail?

I may have been pouting.

Alec laughed on the phone while he spoke to Nate, or Nate's voice mail. Parker ruffled my hair with a good natured smile on her face. I think because I'm shorter, the two of them tend to forget that I am older than they are.

Eliot wrapped one of his arms around my shoulders as we began crossing the square. He looked as if he were thinking deeply about something. I leaned my head on him briefly in an attempt to bring him back to reality. His arm tightened around my shoulders for half a moment, his brow still furrowed deeply. "Do you want a diamond that big?" He didn't look at me when he asked.

I stopped walking, floored. Did he just…? Had he…? I swallowed hard, my heart fluttering in my chest wildly like a trapped butterfly. The bottom of my stomach dropped out and for a handful of seconds I didn't dare breathe.

When he finally turned his gaze on me, those blue eyes seem to search my face for an answer. Then his phone rang. Solemnly Eliot looked at me half a breath longer before answering the offending ringing object. His tone, his whole demeanor shifted from soft and thoughtful to hard and laced with anger.

At the words, "I don't do that anymore," I went cold.

There were a lot of things Eliot used to do that he did not do anymore. One thing at the top of the list stuck out like a sore thumb. The question, the words to ask were there on my lips, but I held them back. I held my tongue held my breath and tried not to go there but that was like trying not to watch a train wreck. No matter how much you wanted to turn away, it was still happening.

Alec wanted to keep walking and part of me was right there with him.

"Just because I'm not doing it," Eliot said solemnly, "doesn't mean it's not getting done."

Another part of me knew my boyfriend was right, "Someone will…" I couldn't bring myself to say it. It is one thing to know people die and completely different thing to know someone was about to die before their time and be able to stop it.

"Somebody," Alec said, "somewhere," and he made the universal signal for a gun shooting.

I swallowed bile. I gripped the strap of my messenger bag tightly. "I'll go back to the hotel."

Eliot shook his head, his shorter hair moving a little with the breeze. "No, honey." He pulled me close and kissed me hard, harder than he'd ever kissed me before. His fingers went into my hair, whispering, "I love you," against my lips.

I kissed him back, telling him softly, "If you get yourself killed I will drag you back from the afterlife and kill you myself."

They went one way, and I took Eliot's black Amex card without argument this time. I did as instructed in case of emergency and rented a car. I drove. I drove until my nerves got the better of me. At some point I'd passed the state line into Pennsylvania. There were Amish on the road. Hands shaking I pulled off to the first place that advertised food and worked on making certain I wasn't going into shock. Violence and I, despite the men I chose to involve myself with, did not mix well.

Two cokes later I did as told. Technically ordered but I chose to overlook that because it was probably going to save my life, I kept driving. I ended up back in Bay Ridge, sitting at my old favorite pizza place about two blocks from my old apartment building. Brooklyn looked the same as it always had, smelled like it always had. New York pizza tasted like it always had, crispy, oily, sweet tangy tomato sauce and salty mozzarella. Thinking those things kept me from thinking about my phone. Thinking that it had yet to ring with a phone call or text message. I touched it every couple of minutes checking to make sure the battery hadn't died on me or something equally bad.

Two pm rolled passed, and nothing happened. I couldn't sit in the pizza place all day. I went walking in my old neighborhood, rode the subway around just in case anyone had followed me. I doubted it but Christ almighty hanging out with thieves was making me paranoid. Three pm passed while I walked through Central Park. I hung out near Alice in Wonderland, the Mad Hatter and the White Rabbit.

A little after four my phone finally rang. Alec.

"Everyone alive?" I asked softly, a tight ball of apprehension sat like lead in the pit of my stomach.

"Uh, yeah," Alec's voice held that tone of hesitation, "Eliot wants to know where you are."

I rolled my shoulders looking around at the people milling around me. "Tell him I'm in that place he dropped a couple of hundred to be alone with me a few years back."

Alec relayed the information. There was a distinct, exhausted chuckle. Eliot spoke but I couldn't make out what he said. Alec made a sound, and then his voice came back to the phone, "Woman you drove all the way to Manhattan?"

I laughed, emotionally spent, "Yeah." I stood up and began walking in the direction of the subway I needed to take to get back to Brooklyn. "Everyone's okay though, right?"

Alec hesitated half a breath too long in his answer. I could practically see him looking at Eliot with that pointed 'what do you want me to tell her' look.

I stopped dead in my tracks, "Alec."

"Gimmie the phone Hardison," Eliot's voice was gruff, and pained.

My eyes closed, I waited until the phone switched hands. "Are you alright?" I asked once he had the phone.

"Faye," He breathed out a long, heavy sigh, "come back down to D.C. We can-"

Maybe the stress made me a little emotional, maybe the fear made me a little crazy, I could blame my reaction on a lot of things. "Eliot Spencer, unless you answer me right now or I will never, ever speak to you again. I will quit working at the pub. I will disappear and there is not a goddamn diamond in this world nice enough for you to get me back once that happens."I took one breath, "So I'm going to ask you one more time and you had better answer me or I'm hanging up and you can kiss us goodbye. Are. You. Alright?"

"I've been shot," he told me, his voice taking on that soft quality he usually had with me, "once in the shoulder and once in the leg. Through and throughs, I'll be fine once I get some stitches."

I forgot about heading to the subway. I walked to the closest bench on rubbery legs and sat down, head bowed, fingers clutching the phone with one hand. My other hand gripped at my knee. "Are you in a hospital?"

He chuckled, sounding exhausted but a little happy, "I don't do hospitals honey."

I knew that, but one could hope. "Okay," my legs didn't feel any better but I headed toward the subway again. "Go stitch yourself up. Or get Parker to do it, or something. I'll be back soon." Then, because my heart ached in my chest and my throat threatened to tighten, I said, "I love you, you stubborn mule of a man."

"Next vacation will be better," he told me.

I wanted to believe that.

* * *

Combing my hair back into place I silently cursed the plane ride followed by the Oklahoma weather. I flipped my boyfriend the bird because his hair, while sometimes not weather proof, didn't seem to frizz up at all once we were off the plane. Then again he was wearing a hat and for all I knew he could have hat hair underneath. Still, I wanted to make a good impression on his father.

Waiting in the car felt plain wrong when we finally did arrive at the quiet little house Eliot said his father lived in. Eliot looked a little nervous. Considering he hadn't seen his father since he enlisted, nervous was to be expected. His fingers wrapped around the handle on the beer we'd picked up because it was his dad's preferred brand. I gave him a bright, hopeful smile as he walked up the couple of steps and down the walkway to the door.

There began a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when I heard Eliot knock twice and, say, "Dad," a little bit louder than the first time.

I watched the curtains and blinds for movement any sign that the person with the lights on in the house could possibly have some interest in the man standing at the door. Inevitably Eliot walked back to us, the truck, Annie in her cat carrier and me. His hands tucked into his jacket and his eyes reddened and downward cast. He left the beer at the door. I stepped toward him, into his chest, my arms loping through his to link at his back. I hugged him tightly, murmuring softly about it being okay.

Telling him he would be okay.

In all honestly I would have liked to say that in the interim his dad came to his damn senses and realize he only had one son. Tell you that a man that looked like an older, slightly burlier version of Eliot came out and grumbled at us to get our sorry selves into his house. He didn't though. No one came out for the handful of minutes I stood with Eliot by the truck.

Eventually we left.

I had Annie in my lap while she worked on cleaning her furry self. Every so often she sent me a dirty glare as if asking why on earth I would put her through the horror of the cat carrier and a plane ride. If she understood what a plane was. Gently I rubbed behind her ears and tried to think about how Eliot was much, much too quiet. Not his angry sort of quiet that would have been preferable to this. There was no sign of his stoic demeanor while he mulled over whatever thoughts were going through his mind.

Asking the obligatory 'are you okay' felt ridiculous. Like asking someone who'd lost an arm if they would like to play baseball or something equally dim-witted. Thankfully my phone ringing interrupted the awkward quiet in the car. I pulled out my cell, inwardly groaning when I realized it was my family calling for our regular phone date. I'd forgotten about my grandfather's insistence that we speak every week.

I unlocked it to answer, "Hey pop, can I call you back later?"

Sounding a little disappointed, "Sure thing doodlebug." He paused, "Everything okay there?"

I opened my mouth to say no, not really when an idea struck me. I looked at Eliot who remained deeply rooted in his own thoughts. "Pop, you and nona still have a couple of guest rooms right?"

My grandfather's voice grew even more concerned "An' your room is still yours. What's wrong, that boy given you grief again?"

I almost laughed, almost. He's a few years from 40 and they're still calling him _boy_. They already knew Eliot was back in my life. I couldn't hide that from them, not that I would or wanted to. "No, actually I was thinking of bringing him home." In the driver's seat Eliot came out of his thoughts enough to cast me a sideways glance in questioning. "We're out in Oklahoma so it might take us a few hours to get there but…"

There was the sound of quick shuffling, and my grandmother's voice came on the phone sweet as ever. "You tell your young man," she was born in 1934, yes she still uses terms like 'young man', "that if he doesn't come home with you we will be very upset with him." She paused for a moment, her voice suddenly sounding very businesslike when she spoke again, "Doodlebug, is he there?"

"Yes nona," I replied.

"Then put him on the phone," she told me, "I'll wait."

Eliot must have heard her because he was already pulling off to the shoulder. Our fingers brushed as I passed the phone over. I took the opportunity to kiss his cheek, which Annie did not appreciate since it disrupted her almost complete bath. She settled between us on the seat and stretched herself out in order to finish cleaning her fur.

"Yes ma'am," Eliot said listening to my grandmother talk his ear off. He nodded a couple of times in succession, "Yes ma'am, I do." Curiosity piqued, I tried to concentrate on hearing her side of the conversation but he shifted my phone to the other ear so I couldn't hear it very well. "Yes ma'am," he said glancing at me with those blue eyes that made me all kinds of melty inside, "I will."

Apparently that was not to be the end of the phone call. I watched as Eliot's back got a little straighter as he sat up and then I heard the differences in the voice on the other end of the phone. Mortified I realized my grandfather, who might have still had misgivings regarding a renewed relationship between Eliot and I, had gotten back on the phone. I knew the two of them got on well way back when, but that was before Eliot and I formed a relationship beyond friendship. Nervously I watched Eliot's face, waiting for him to speak.

Finally after an eternity of cars passing us on the highway, Eliot looked over at me and reached out to brush some hair behind my ear. I grabbed his hand in mine and kissed his knuckles which made him smile a little. He laced our fingers together, tugging me over to his side of the truck's cab. I had to move Annie back into my lap. I could still hear my grandfather talking on the other end, but it wasn't in a stern authoritative voice. The kind of voice he used when pop got upset or angry. I leaned against Eliot's shoulder, pressing soft butterfly kisses against his neck.

"I love you," I whispered in his ear, making him smile despite the depressed cloud he had hanging over his head.

"I will sir," Eliot said once my grandfather's voice had stopped on the other end of the phone, "and I understand. Thank you." He handed me back the phone, looking marginally happier than he had before.

"Pop," I said cautiously into the receiver, "what did you say? You didn't threaten him did you?" Which my grandfather had done to Andy on a few different occasions. The first time when he realized Andy and I were getting close, the second when he found out Andy and I had sex, the third time right after Andy proposed. What can I say? My grandfather is really protective of me.

"No," he groused, I could almost picture him scowling at the home phone, "now get yourselves back on the road. We'll see you soon doodlebug."

Eliot of course was already pulling back onto the high way.

"Love you pop, see you soon."

We hung up.

Knowing better than to ask Eliot what my grandfather may have said to him didn't keep me from wondering the whole ride. Oh I could prod and question but that would get me absolutely no where with him. Instead I focused my energies on using Google maps to navigate us back to my childhood home. Somewhere we hadn't been together since very early in our friendship. A few hours passed, Annie thankfully didn't need a pit stop for a cleaning of her carrier.

Eliot and I spoke of course, talking about the job he'd just done with the team to take down a company some of my friends made the mistake of working for during college. I pointed out the very pretty girl that owned the grocery store. A girl he probably would have asked out if he hadn't already been attached to me. Which made him smile that smile of his, the one that made me weak kneed ask me if I was jealous. I admitted I might have been just a little bit.

Night had settled in by the time we turned down the dirt and gravel road that lead to my grandparent's place. The ranch wasn't very big, but we had a barn for the horses and a separate place for the handful of staff to live. The bunch of dogs my grandparents owned howled out our arrival before Eliot even parked the truck.

While putting Annie back in the crate to save her from the sniffing dogs I noticed Eliot doing something peculiar. He was looking at the mileage on the truck. When he looked up and caught me watching him he leaned over and pulled me into a kiss that took my breath away.

"What was that for?" I murmured against his lips, pleasantly surprised.

"You live exactly two hundred miles from where I grew up," he told me in a voice so reverent my heart and stomach both flipped inside me.

I blinked at him, a little shocked by the idea. A few things fell into place in that moment. If he'd never joined the army then we wouldn't be together right now. The ifs, the ands and the whys all lined up like the perfect set of dominos. Before that I'd never really thought of those things, oh I knew them but they didn't really occur in the same string of thought processes. We lived within two hundred miles of each other as children and would have never known the other existed if our paths hadn't intersected like they did.

Destiny, fate, providence, whatever. You are one crazy, albeit brilliant, bitch.

"Oh you are so getting laid tonight," I told him with another quick kiss.

His gaze went past me to the front door where I assumed my grandfather and grandmother were probably waiting for us on the front porch. Eliot seemed to weigh the idea of having sex under my grandparent's roof for a few beats, and then he said, "Making love to you is worth him pulling a rifle on me."

I couldn't decide if that was funny or horrifying, so I kissed him again. "Don't worry Eliot, I was married remember? They know I'm not a virgin." That didn't seem to make him feel any better.

There were big tears in my grandmother's eyes when she saw me. Times like these, when she pulled me into her arms and kissed my cheeks and called me her baby that I regretted going to college. I thought about what it would have been like to stay home and take part in the ranch. The road not traveled as they say. I hugged her back, noting she'd gotten skinnier since last Christmas. I kissed her cheek too, and her forehead the scent of her rosemary and chamomile shampoo filling my nose.

Next to us my grandfather shook Eliot's hand. "Good to see you son," he said.

As impeccable as Eliot's poker face could be, today's events combined with my grandfather calling him **that** of all things got to him. I could see it in the lines of his frame. "Sir," he said his voice just the slightest bit strained. He turned to my grandmother offering his hand and a peck on the cheek.

She shushed at him. "Stop that," my grandmother drew him into a hug, wrapped her arms around him and said, "You are family."

His eyes were wet when she finally released him, though he wasn't crying. He wrapped one arm around my waist once I finished hugging my grandfather. Eliot pressed his lips against my temple and said so softy I doubted anyone but me, the dogs and Annie would hear it, "I love you."

I pushed up on my toes and kissed him soundly, "I love you too."

Eliot had, politely, told my grandparents he was fine staying in another room.

My grandfather had laughed at him, patted his shoulder and told my boyfriend flatly, "Son, if you think I don't know you two have been sleeping together, you've got another thing coming."

I think I may have turned bright red.

My grandparents, in their eighties and sharper than tacks. My grandfather still looked like he could go a few rounds in a ring. He boxed when he was in Korea. My grandmother stood about a head shorter than him, hair shades of auburn and brown. She'd been a looker in her day, dozens of boyfriends with broken hearts before my grandfather got down on one knee and asked her to be his. He still worked with some of the horses and she still baked her own bread and pastries.

Explains my stubborn streak.

The burn of embarrassment abated by the time we were safely ensconced in my old room. The queen size bed – it was a twin before I got married – looked like there were fresh sheets on it with newly fluffed pillows. Annie happened to love my bed. She plopped herself on the pile of pillows like a royal princess might have taken a cushy seat in court. She hadn't liked the dogs sniffing her crate too much but then she was a fearless little creature. She swatted at their noses when they got too close.

I sat down on the bed petting her while Eliot brought up my carry on. He didn't fly with luggage. Annie was in a soft, almost snoring sleep and he still hadn't come back up. I went outside to where the railing met the wall and looked down into the room below. Eliot stood with my grandfather, much the way he had with Andy all those years ago.

Instead of eavesdropping like I had last time, I edged to the top of the stairs and began to head down. They carried on their conversation anyway. I could hear my grandmother working in the kitchen, singing a song to herself about the coasts of a country I may never see. The stairs made old creaking sounds, familiar as they were comfortable. I waited there at the bottom of the staircase watching Eliot and my grandfather talk to one another, nothing specific. They just spoke like old friends. Eliot said something that made my grandfather smile warmly and pat Eliot on the shoulder. Then he turned and went into the kitchen, more than likely to inquire about dinner.

I cocked my head, watching Eliot approach with my messenger bag in hand. "What was that about?" He gave me this look, blue eyes bright. Eliot set the strap of my bag on the handle to the staircase letting the bag hang just there. Then he wrapped both arms around me, drawing me into his frame. His dark hair framed his face when he smiled at me. I reached up and tucked a few strands behind his ear.

"You," he murmured to me, punctuating the word with a slow burning kiss that stoked that ever present flare of attraction between us. One of his hands moved to the small of my back, fingers pressing me as close as we could get.

The intimacy of our position made me blush. Still I wrapped my arms around his shoulder, kissing him back until the heady sensations of equal parts love and desire left my knees wobbly. "Mmm," I let the fingers of one hand trail from the base of his neck to the middle of his back and back up again. "What about me?"

Instead of answering, he just kissed me again.

* * *

The people I knew while growing up were still doing the same thing they had been twenty odd years ago. Mister D'Angelo still ran the barber shop with the help of his son and now grandson. Mister Yuen and his wife ran the Golden Palace, the only place to get Chinese food within ten miles though now apparently they added a sushi bar at some point. Marty and Mary-Ellen Steinberg's faces were on each and every bench advertising their ability to sell a house even in this market. Thelma White had her mannequins with their retro 50's, 60's and 70's styles standing outside her second hand shop with pleasantly raised hands waiting to welcome people into the store. Susan and Stella Barkov were now in charge of their dad's diner where Eliot and I decided to get lunch.

People walked down the street, some I knew others I barely recalled. I saw the Prom Queen go by driving a stroller with two red haired toddlers strapped in. A guy I knew from chorus walked hand in hand down the street with one of Andy's cousins.

Nothing about the town had changed except the people. They had aged and had children of their own. I felt a little like I'd gone back in some sort of sideways time machine.

"You look different," a vaguely familiar voice.

I turned away from watching the people outside the restaurant window to the woman standing at the edge of our table. Recognition took a moment or two to spark. I could feel my forehead creasing with disbelief as I took in the honey blonde hair, still sleek and shiny, but with a few grey strands here and there. Her eyes, green as pine trees in winter and twice as cold still held that haughty tone. Her clothes still said money, though I suspected it was her husband's and not her father's now.

"Candace Lowell?" I half wanted to get out of my seat and give her a hug. If only for old time's sake. We were friends for a little while, movies, sleepovers, pep rallies, the whole nine yards. And then Andy gave me a promise ring and I found out who my real friends actually were. Instead of hugging her I tried to smile as warmly as I could, "How are you?"

Deflecting the question, "I heard you changed back to your maiden name." One hand on her hip, French manicured tips biting into her pinstriped pencil skirt. The mild hostility in her tone and posture spoke volumes, "And I heard you moved to New York."

"Oregon," I told her, eyeing the bathroom area for Eliot's return. "I lived in New York for a while but I moved to Portland about a year ago." I nodded at the solid looking sparkly rock on her finger surrounded by smaller, equally bright diamonds. "I see you're married. Who is the lucky guy?"

She sniffed, flipping her hair over one shoulder, her chin going up almost defensively. "Jack Kennedy. Eight years now. He works with my father." Her daddy was the best defense lawyer in the county way back when.

"Oh, congratulations," I tried to keep the surprise out of my voice. Jack Kennedy had been more of a brute than a smooth talker. Fists first, don't bother asking questions. I could only imagine how that went over in court. "Any children?"

"I see you didn't get married again." More deflection followed by a vicious little twist at the corner of her mouth, "Not even engaged?" Her voice drew out the last word as if she might be trying to rub in the fact that I hadn't taken up with anyone else yet.

She was certainly trying to spend my good will awful fast, and I really did not want to play her games. I sighed in resignation. "Is there something you wanted Candace besides rubbing my face in a life I don't want or envy?" I can be just as bitchy when I have to be, I just don't choose to be. I'm not that person. Normally.

On some level I think my disregard for her haughty, high horse behavior stung. Her green eyes narrowed, hardening, her lips pursing, "Excuse me?"

"If you missed it Candace, I was trying to do the right thing and be polite. I don't know what set you off or why, nor do I care. I'm on vacation, and I don't have time to play your petty game of who has done what since high school. I am not interested in your small-minded grievances whatever they may be. And if you are still pissed off that Andy chose to date me and marry me, you have some genuinely phenomenal issues to talk through with your shrink." I waved my hand at her dismissively, "I moved on with my life, why haven't you?"

Right on cue Eliot rounded the corner, returning to our window side booth. He must have noticed the angry vibrations coming off Candace in waves, but he gave her his polite good ol' boy smile. The smile that could knock a woman right off her feet, "Excuse me ma'am."

Candace broke eye contact with me, lost her heart and head and melted into a gooey puddle of grown woman in front of us. I rolled my eyes as her fingers immediately went from their place on her hip to her chest. "Oh," her voice sounded a little breathless, "I'm sorry." She took a half step closer to him, "I didn't realize you were there." Her fingers strayed just a little to the v created by her blouse and breasts, toying absently with the material right above the buttons.

I wondered if Jack Kennedy knew his wife was probably sleeping around on him.

"Just goin' back to my girlfriend," Eliot kept on with that smile even when he slid into the seat across from me.

"Oh," a pout formed on her lips, quickly followed by a look most women wore when they realized Eliot was with me. A sort of 'are you kidding' expression crossed her face briefly. I'll never really understand it; I don't think I ever have. Extremely good looking people belong with other extremely good looking people in the mass populace rule book. Or at least it read that way in the American populace rule book.

In the half second it took Candace to realize Eliot was with me – all five feet two inches, plain brown hair, steel grey eyes and a smattering of freckles on my European descendant skin – she went from gooey puddle of womanhood, bypassed her self righteousness from before and went into full on bitch mode. Silently of course, lest she convince Eliot she was insane as well as petty.

Her lips pursed, her eyes harder than marble, she nodded at me, "Faith." And walked her boney, knock off designer clad ass away from our table.

"I remember her," Eliot told me once Candace left the vicinity. I gave him a questioning look. "From after the funeral," he elaborated, "I turned her away from your door a few times when you weren't up to seeing people."

I blinked at him in surprise, "You never told me that."

His lips thinned into a grimace, "She wasn't there to see you Faye."

Our waitress Marie came by, not someone I could say I knew but I recognized her face well enough. She knew me though, remembered my order of large fries with honey mustard and a strawberry shake hold the burger. I dipped one golden colored potato slice after Marie left. "And?" I said, "don't leave me hanging Eliot, what did she want? To jump your bones? Because, honestly, that is completely understandable. You are sexy, capitalization on the S-E-X-Y."

He shot me a half hearted glare, "First time I let her in I thought she was dropping off a casserole from her family. I took my eyes off her for a minute to put it away in the fridge and came back finding her pawing through your stuff. She stuffed a couple of pictures of you and Andy into her purse an' when I went to throw her out she started telling me things I didn't want to know." He shook his head, "Pretty sure she was lying, but you don't talk ill of the dead like that."

I swallowed around bile, "What kind of things?"

Uncomfortable could only describe the way he looked right then, he looked down at the burger with cheddar cheese and jalapenos on his plate, "You sure you want to know?"

I nodded of course. Call it my masochistic side.

"She said you blackmailed Andy into marrying you."

I dropped my fries back on the plate in annoyance, "Heard that rumor before. There's one about me faking being pregnant to get a ring out of him. There were a bunch of rumors after he gave me the promise ring, even more after we actually got married. Do you know how many times the school nurse pulled me in to have a safe sex talk with me? Or the principal called my house warning my grandparents that if I did turn up pregnant I would have to go to a different school?" I wrinkled my nose not so much interested in my lunch any more. "Did she tell you the one where my grandfather held him at gunpoint at the altar? Half the town was there wishing us good luck and they still spread that crap around like wild fire."

"You two were trying to get pregnant though," Eliot said after a few quiet moments. He watched me with those blue, blue eyes of his. "I saw the tests in the trash first time I went to check up on you."

Wiping my fingers on a napkin, "We'd talked about it and we were going to try after graduation. I stopped taking the pill the January before he died. For a while after he died I thought I might be." One fry dragged through the gold-brown mustard on my plate. Then I went where we never really ventured before. The future. Our future. We never discussed it before because we were trying to take this, us, it one day at a time. As far as I knew, yes Eliot wanted to be with me for the long haul. He never actually said the words before though.

"I want kids one day Eliot. I love Annie to pieces but a cat can't make up for kids and a family. I want to have a baby, or adopt or have foster kids or something. I want to get married again and stay married. Nobody dying. I want dance lessons or soccer practice, and maybe a martial arts class because I know you're all about self defense. I want to teach our kid to ride a bike and eventually to drive a car. See them take off in a limo for prom after you've sufficiently glared at their date. See them graduate and get married and have kids of their own."

For a few moments he was horribly silent and we just watched each other from across the table. This wasn't where today was supposed to go. We had at least another six days before we had to even start thinking about heading back to Portland. Would this make things uncomfortable between us? Did I upset him? Was he angry?

"I'm wanted in three different countries," he told me finally in a soft, resigned tone. As if he might be preparing to say something he didn't want to say or hear something he didn't want to hear. "If someone found out about you Faye, or our kids or…" his hand formed a tight, angry fist on the table. "I want what you want, hell Faye if I hadn't broken it off with you before we'd probably already be there. I keep thinking sometimes about that, about what our kids will look like. Then I remember the team, our lives and our job and I can't leave them or the work we're doing."

"No one said you had to," I touched his hand across the table, "don't you think I want Parker and Alec and Nate and Sophie in our lives? They're your family and they're growing on me like weeds. I couldn't stop them even if I wanted to. You're a package deal and you know I'm okay with that. I'm _more_ than okay with that."

His hand splayed out under mine, fingers threading through mine. "You're some kind of crazy, sweetheart knowing all you know about me and still wanting to stay."

I rolled my shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. Like I said, Eliot came as a package deal. I either took it or left him. No way I could leave him. Ever. We tried breaking up before and it didn't take. Took us years to get back together, but here we were. Back in Missouri with him holding my hand and talking about the future. Our future.

"I like the name Amanda," I squeezed his hand, "for a girl. Jason for a boy. What about you, any names you like?"

Blue eyes narrowed a bit, "You trying to tell me something sweetheart?" The inflection in his voice, a lot of hope with a little bit of 'holy shit' all mixed together. Recently we'd been using the condoms less and less because for one, he knew I took the pill regularly and two, I trusted him and he trusted me. I could practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes adding up all the times we'd gone without and he came inside me.

Smiling I pushed up to lean across the table and planted a kiss on his lips, "No, not yet, but just so you know cowboy." I leaned in close, dropping my voice to a whisper against his lips, "On our wedding night, no pills, no condoms, just you and me." I nipped his upper and lower lip, eliciting a low growl from him, "Sound good?"

"Eat your lunch before I drag you into the bathroom Faye," his voice sounded husky with the promise of sex later. Lots of wild, wet, amazing sex later. Or, if I was really a bad girl he'd pull me into one of the bathrooms and we would no doubt end up getting kicked out for lascivious behavior.

"Be careful cowboy, I might just take you up on it." I winked at him, licking my lower lip for emphasis. "Don't think the front seat of your rental could take the work out and my knees are opposed to the truck bed if you get my drift."

He growled at me in response, deep and gravelly, sending delicious shivers of anticipation down my spine.

* * *

On our second to last day in Missouri, Eliot asked to go riding with him. We went out toward the ridge, an over hanging cliff facing a space of grass and trees that looked nice all year round. We lounged in grass, our horses grazing near by. It was good, a good last day to an already great week. My grandparents loved Eliot, and the dogs did too. Next time we were coming out this way, my grandmother and grandfather insisted we bring Eliot's family. I think they assumed when we talked about Parker, Nate, Sophie and Alec that they were sisters, brothers a mother and father.

Eliot didn't make any move to correct them, and I guess I didn't either. In the distance the sun was setting, heavy and orange it turned the whole valley below into a forest on fire. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

"I never said thank you," Eliot told me as we lay stretched out in the grass. Our fingers twined together, interlaced on his stomach.

My head resting on his shoulder, one of my legs over his, I toyed with the buttons of his shirt. "For what?"

"For bringing me here," he turned over, lying on his side to face me.

I turned on my side as well, "You don't have to thank me for that." I brushed a lock of his hair back out of his eyes. Stubbornly it dropped back down. I smiled at him and he laughed that slow, happy laugh of his. It made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. "I love you," I told him, "and I'm always going to love you. Making you happy makes me happy."

He leaned in kissing me, "That's my line Faye, not yours."

"Nah," I said against his lips, pressing back against him again and again, nipping his lower lip with my teeth. "I think we can share it. You'll get it for a few days, and then I'll get it for a few days. Especially when I'm mad at you, then you can have it."

Eliot pulled me in, kissing me harder until we were both breathing heavily. "Faye," he murmured, his lips trailing down the skin of my neck. He rolled us over until he was over me, my back pressed down into the cool grass, cooler now that the sun was almost set. "I love you," he told me, "you know that, don't you?"

I cocked my head at him, a little confused, "Yeah, of course, why do you ask?"

He toyed with my left hand, lacing and unlacing our fingers. "If I asked you today," he said, watching our hands and the way they fit together, "would you marry me?"

In my chest my heartbeat kicked up to a wild pace, "If you asked me today," I swallowed hard, trying to control my breathing, "yes, Eliot I would marry you."

"And," he said not quite meeting my gaze, "if we didn't get married in a church, would you be alright with that?"

I smiled up at him, touching that lock of hair that just refused to stay in place. "Yep, more than okay with it, I promise. I've done the church wedding, can't say I liked it much."

He chuckled, that low scratchy sound deep in his chest. Then he took a deep breath and pulled me up to kneeling with him on the grass. He kept toying with my hands, holding them, lacing our fingers, unlacing them, holding them and back around again. It was unnerving to see him so wound up like this.

I looked up at him curiously, a little confused. "Eliot, I've never seen you nervous before, what's up?"

From his pocket he produced a ring. A single, solitary diamond that caught the dying light and sparkled like nothing I'd ever seen before. He took my hand, sliding the ring onto my ring finger.

"You said," Eliot's voice sounded strange, nervous and tense, "you would if I asked Faye so…" he breathed in deeply again, held it for a short count and asked me. "I'm asking. Faith Anne-Marie Greyhem, would you be my wife?"

Oh. My. God. I screamed a little, a short girly scream and threw my arms around his neck, kissing him for all I was worth and then some. I couldn't fathom up the words to say yes, so I didn't. I kissed him and kept kissing him until we both had to come up to breathe.

"Was that a yes Faye?" Eliot asked me, his voice happy with laughter and of all things, hope.

I pressed my mouth back to his, "Of course it is silly man, as if I would say no."

He held me close telling me softly, "You know we might not be able to get married like other people."

I snorted, "We're not regular people. You're a multi-millionaire thief that works with a bunch of Robin Hood thieves making the world a better place to live in. I work for said group of thieves in their cover operation. Regular, pfft, who wants to be regular? I kind of like our lives."

Eliot wore a serious expression, "Faye, I mean this. You have to know this, so just listen. Being with me, I'm never going to get to have a normal life. I want to have kids with you, and as much as I'd like to have the house and the car and the yard, we might not be able to have all of it. Maybe we might not be able to have any of it. I'm going to try, try for you to give you that but-"

Holding my hand against his mouth, my left hand with the ring on it, "Do you really, truly believe I want you to bend over backwards to give me those things? I don't care if we don't have kids right away. I don't care if we never have the house with the white picket fence. Hell, I don't even want the house with the white picket fence. What I want is to be with you. If that means we have to live in a three story walk up or in my tiny ass apartment, we'll deal with it. You, me, Annie and whoever else comes along."

"A dog," Eliot said to me as we headed back to the horses. "I'd want to get a dog." He wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we walked, "A wolf, or half wolf."

"Annie is going to hate that."

Eliot helped me up onto my horse, "She'll live, besides, she'll be spoiled without a sibling."

We rode back, telling each other along the way the things we'd like for the future. Our future together. He was adamant about the dog being a wolf. We didn't have to have a house, but hell if he wasn't going to try to get us one.

I kept looking at the ring on my finger, my insides turned to gooey mush whenever I did. Eliot asked me to marry him and I said yes. I felt like I had the dumbest grin on my face the whole way home.

The End

* * *

And that, as they say is that. Thank you for coming back to this story if you remembered it, and thank you for sticking with all 72 pages of it.

48K words. Almost two years of work.

For those who wonder about my grandmother, yes she is still with us. She's very frail now but she still insists on getting up and trying to live her life. She is, however in Hospice care. They've given her about six months to a year.

Good night all.


End file.
